


Eyes Don't Have It

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Meg attempts to help Fraser apprehend a thief she's injured, potentially costing her Fraser and her career.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**The Eyes Don't Have It**

“Fraser, we're going to be late for lunch with Mr. Larsen.” Meg fussed as her subordinate officer slowly cruised the street behind Nyala, a well established restaurant in a booming area of Chicago.

“Yes, Sir.” Fraser answered dutifully.

“Don't _'Yes, Sir'_ , me, Fraser, just let me out and find a parking space.” The Inspector growled.

“Ah, here's a space, Sir.” Fraser pointed to a delivery van leaving the curb. Slowly, the Mountie parked the dark Lincoln in it's place. Meg rolled her eyes, thinking how they would have been early if it were a dog sled team instead.

Chicagoans, lost in their own thoughts and errands, moved past the consulate car as Fraser opened the rear passenger door for Meg. She slid out gracefully and stood within inches of the red clad officer. Their gazes locked for a moment as Meg tucked a stray strand of soft, dark hair behind her ear. Her smoldering gaze raked over Ben like a rampant wildfire. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding after she turned to walk into the restaurant. Ben shook his head to regain his composure. Dressed in a hunter green, velvet ensemble that complimented every curve, the lady Mountie had been distracting the Constable all morning. He preferred her in red, but damn if she wasn't fetching in that lush, earth tone suit.

Meg was frowning at him when Ben caught up to him.

“The door, Constable.” She said impatiently. Fraser ushered her through the restaurant door, not daring to meet her eyes.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Gunnar Larsen was seated at a table, sipping iced tea when Thatcher arrived. In his early fifties, the Icelandic trade official rose when he saw the comely, lady Mountie approach. His pale blue eyes smiled easily when he saw Meg.

“Mr. Larsen, hello, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long.” Meg apologized, shifting her gaze toward Fraser. Larsen's expression didn't shift, but he saw Fraser's face change. He saw a hint of hurt in the Mountie's eyes.

_**After Lunch ….** _

Fraser saw through lunch quietly as Meg and Larsen made small talk, then talked business. The Mountie took notes for the Inspector. He was glad when Larsen's cell phone rang.

“Ah, Inspector Thatcher, I have to go, it's my daughter.” Mr. Larsen shrugged. He called for the waitress and picked up the check.

“I'll speak with you tomorrow then, Mr. Larsen.” Meg shook his hand politely.

“Good day, Inspector, Constable.” Larsen nodded as he took off for the coat check room at the entrance of the restaurant. Meg took off behind him, Fraser bringing up the rear.

Outside, Fraser had just opened Meg's door when a young man ran into the one way street from the rear of the restaurant. A waitress rushed out after him.

“STOP! THIEF!” The waitress shouted. The young man didn't look back, he just pointed his gun over his shoulder and pulled the trigger. Fraser left Meg standing by the car to run after the thief. The Inspector slammed the door and took off after Fraser. She kept up pretty good to be wearing two inch heels and a skirt.

Meg caught up to Fraser just after he caught the thief. The Mountie took him down with a flying tackle, sending his handgun skidding across the pavement. Meg kicked the handgun away while Fraser scuffled with the thief. The young man kicked Fraser hard in the ribs. He scrambled to his feet but Fraser took hold of him a moment later. The thief turned to face the Mountie, throwing a right punch. Meg saw Fraser duck the punch. Spinning around the thief saw the Inspector. He elbowed her across the face, laying her out cold. Fraser then cold cocked the thief from behind with a bottle. He used his lanyard to tie the thief's hands before turning to where Meg lay. She groaned as Fraser lifted her to a sitting position. Holding her head, Meg tried to clear her cloudy vision but couldn't.

“Are you alright, Inspector?” Ben studied her eyes as she looked up at him.

“My head hurts, I think I have a concussion.” She answered, holding her splitting head.

“What's going on?” A Chicago PD foot patrolman asked, his Adam's apple bobbing. He'd been sent to respond to the alarm in the restaurant.

“Would you kindly radio for assistance and an ambulance?” Fraser responded, still knelt down beside Meg.

“Yeah, sure.” The young officer nodded, pulling his radio from his belt.

“I've never felt like this before, Fraser, my eyes won't clear up.” Meg laid her palm over her eyes, head pounding.

“We'll be to the emergency room in a few minutes.” He hoped his suspicions weren't true.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	2. 2

_**ER …** _

“A detached retina, how?” Meg asked Dr. Brown, aghast at the diagnosis. The optometrist looked grim.

“I'm afraid so. The sooner we get into surgery the more likely we can repair the damage without any side effects.” Dr. Brown's words left Meg feeling hollow.

“How soon?” She asked, her mind spinning.

“First thing tomorrow morning. Say the word and I'll have my nurse schedule it.” He made it sound so simple.

“Schedule it then.” Meg answered with more calm than she felt.

“Alright, I'll get the ball rolling.” Dr. Brown shook Meg's hand before he left. The lady Mountie was left sitting in a hard, plastic chair in the exam room by herself. The thought of a major surgery scared her like nothing she'd ever experienced. Images of the sheep eyeballs she dissected in high school biology came back to her. Bile rose in her stomach as tears filled her unseeing eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. Meg knew that there was a chance, however small, that something could go wrong on the operating table, that she may not wake up ever again.

“Inspector Thatcher, there's a man here to pick you up.” A blurry nurse said after stepping through the curtains surrounding the exam room.

“Tall, good looking, dark hair?” Meg asked as she began wiping her tears away.

“Yep, that's him.” The nurse's smile could be heard in her pleasant voice. “I'll tell him you'll be ready as soon as you've signed some paperwork.”

“Send him back here, I'll need someone to escort me to the car.” Meg instructed, hoping she didn't have mascara smeared down her face.

“Okay, just a moment.” Meg heard her shoes squeak when she turned to leave. “I'd like to have him escort me somewhere.” The nurse said as she walked away from the exam room. Meg chuckled. It wasn't the first time she'd heard a similar statement about Fraser.

The Inspector didn't know how long it was until she heard the sound of heavy foot falls coming down the tiled floor toward her. The sound of metal rings dragging in their tracks told Meg that Fraser had arrived.

“Inspector Thatcher.” He stepped inside the curtained cocoon and came to stand beside the chair where Meg sat. She turned her head in the direction of his voice out of habit.

“Constable Fraser, the doctor said it was a detached retina. I'm scheduled for surgery first thing tomorrow morning. You'll be in charge, temporarily, until I'm fully recovered.” Meg said, her mind a million steps into the future.

“Are you alright, Inspector?” Fraser asked, squatting down to her level. Meg felt cold and tired from nerves.

“I'm fine, Constable Fraser.” She answered, pursing her lips in annoyance.

“Here's the release forms you need to sign, Inspector Thatcher.” The same nurse brought back a sheaf of paperwork. She explained what each sheet said and helped Meg scratch her signature across the bottom.

“You're free to go, Inspector, best of luck.” The nurse wished her as she opened the curtains to walk away.

“Constable Fraser, will you take me to the consulate, I still have a million things to do.” Meg stood up, unsure of Ben's location. Her first step brought her to a stop as she smacked into him.

“Here, let me guide you out, Sir.” Fraser gently took her hand and tucked her arm to his side. Together they made it to the Lincoln where he laid a gentle hand on the top of her head to keep her from knocking it on the frame.

_**The Consulate …** _

“I'm not helpless, Constable Fraser, I've walked up these steps a thousand times.” Meg fussed as he told her how many steps there were up to the consulate's front door.

“Yes, Sir.” Was all he said as he laid her hand on the hand rail. Still, it was a little disconcerting to move without knowing where she was going or how close things were. Fraser had the door open for her. He led her to the wall where Meg ran her hands along the textured wallpaper until she hit her office door. She'd never realized just how far her office was from the front door. The grandfather clock ticking at the end of the hall was loud, as was the sound of the church bells outside the consulate. Before, Meg had taken these things for granted. Now she could smell the lemon furniture polish Turnbull used on the staircase and the smell of Fraser and his leather polish. She smelled something spicy as well.

“Is Turnbull cooking something?” Meg stopped before she opened her office door.

“No, Sir, not that I'm aware of.” Fraser answered, lifting his own nose to the air current down the hall.

“I smell something spicy, red peppers perhaps.” Meg tried to place the smell with the source.

“Oh, that's Diefenbaker, he ate a slice of pizza while we were at the restaurant.” Fraser answered.

“Send Turnbull into my office, please, Fraser.” Meg fumbled for the door knob.

“Yes, Inspector. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?” Fraser asked before leaving her alone.

“No, Constable, you've done quite enough for today.” Meg said with more venom than she'd intended.

“Understood.” Fraser turned to leave quickly. Meg felt like banging her head against a brick wall somewhere. She was taking her own pain and fear out on him.

 _“I'm sorry, Fraser.”_ Meg whispered to herself as she moved on into her office.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

With Turnbull's help, Meg made last minute arrangements. There were phone calls to be made and information to be faxed and e-mailed. Meg gave Turnbull orders while she sat with her eyes closed.

By seven o'clock she had a headache and was read to pitch the junior Mountie out the nearest window. He meant well, hovering around her as if Meg were a Faberge egg, but he was annoying.

“Turnbull, you're dismissed.” Meg finally let him go when he spilled cold coffee all over her hand.

“How will you get home safely, Sir?” Turnbull asked as he stepped back, away from the desk.

“Fraser will call a taxi for me, Turnbull, thank you for your concern.” Meg answered more forcefully than she'd intended.

“Have a good night, Sir.” Turnbull wished her quickly.

“Thank you, Turnbull.” Meg's tone softened.

“Best of luck, Sir.” Turnbull closed the office door behind himself.

Meg was left alone for the first time all day. It felt good for a moment, until she realized that she couldn't just get in a taxi, go to her comfortable apartment and fix dinner for one like she usually did. The thought of not being self-sufficient startled Meg. She had no one in Chicago to call, no one who could come and stay the night with her and help her get ready to be at the hospital the next morning before the crack of dawn.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	3. 3

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

“Oh, Constable Fraser, I believe the Inspector would like to speak to you.” Turnbull offered helpfully as he met him in the hallway. Fraser had been wondering about Meg. He'd heard her short, aggravated outbursts from his own office, not to mention she'd made it quite clear she blamed him for the accident.

“Thank you kindly, Constable Turnbull.” Fraser nodded, steeling himself for an angry Inspector Thatcher. Fraser tapped on the door before opening it slightly.

“Inspector, you wanted to see me?” Fraser stepped in tentatively.

“No, I didn't, not yet anyway.” Meg leaned her head against her hand, eyes closed. Fraser saw a tear hit the desk blotter in front of her. She took a deep breath and let it out in a tired sigh.

“Oh, my apologies.” He turned to leave.

“Fraser, I did have one matter to discuss.” Meg called before he reached the door. She lifted her head, her unseeing eyes looking in his direction.

“Yes, Inspector.” He turned, expectantly.

“As you know, I'm having surgery first thing in the morning.” Meg had tried all afternoon to think of a way to phrase her next question. “If something should happen, would you make the decision as my representative? If you don't feel comfortable, I understand completely.” Meg heard Fraser shift from one foot to the other.

“Are you certain, Inspector, this is, ah, this is ….” Fraser was flabbergasted.

“I trust you to carry out my wishes, Constable.” Meg wished she could see his face, to get a glimpse of the answer he would give her. “As I said, if you don't feel comfortable I understand.”

“What are your wishes if something should happen?” Fraser asked, rubbing his ear lobe between his thumb and index finger.

“I don't want to be kept on life support for a prolonged period of time. I want my organs donated and my body sent back to be buried in my father's family cemetery. It's all here.” Meg searched her desk for the file she'd had Turnbull dig out for her. Fraser stepped nearer to the desk.

“Is it marked _'Will'_ , Sir?” He asked.

“Yes, that's it, Constable Fraser. It contains all my important information, anything you'd need if something should happen.” Meg answered.

Fraser could see how hard this was for her to do, to trust him so completely with her life. He'd seen the spark of fear on her features when he'd gone into the emergency exam room. _“This must be her worst nightmare.”_ Ben had thought to himself.

“I will do my best, Inspector Thatcher.” He said solemnly.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser.” Meg said simply, not wanting to admit that there wasn't anyone else to ask.

“You have but to ask, Inspector.” He said kindly. Meg felt a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, tugging gently for her to give in.

“May I ask one more favor, Constable Fraser?” She said quietly.

“Yes.” He answered.

“Will you take me home and walk me to my apartment?” Meg hated the feeling of helplessness asking brought.

“Certainly, whenever you're ready to leave the consulate.” Fraser made it sound like a pleasure instead of a chore. It lessened Meg's feelings of dependence.

“Call the cab company and I'll get my jacket and purse.” Meg answered, hoping she wouldn't stumble too badly on her way to the coat tree near the door.

“A cab will be here in a moment.” Fraser hung up the phone as he saw Meg struggling to find the arm hole of her jacket. “Here, allow me to help.” He took the jacket from him and turned it right side out for her.

“I'm not useless, Fraser.” Meg fussed as he guided her hand into the correct arm hole of her velvet jacket.

“You were putting it on wrong side out, Sir.” Fraser said patiently as he straightened the collar around her neck.

“Oh,” The lady Mountie looked down as she felt embarrassment rising.

“Think nothing of it.” Fraser handed Meg her purse. Together they walked out into the cool, breezy evening. Meg was grateful for Fraser's strong arm when she missed a step and almost fell down the cement steps on her backside. It was harder being incapacitated than she had ever imagined.

“Where to?” The cab driver asked when Fraser had seated himself beside Meg in the back of the taxi. The car smelled of sweat and pine air freshener, along with something Meg was certain she didn't want to think about.

“801 Alderson Street, please.” Meg answered automatically. It wasn't a fancy, upscale, lake view address, but it was in a comfortable neighborhood convenient to the consulate.

“Here you go.” The cab driver said with a careless shrug as he pulled the vehicle to the curb. Meg began fumbling for the fare.

“Here you go, keep the change.” Fraser said as he handed the driver the fare.

“Hey, this isn't the right color.” The driver protested. “That's the right color.” He said more agreeably when Fraser sweetened the fare with an American ten.

“Good evening, Sir.” Fraser wished the driver as he neared Meg's door.

“Yeah, you too.” The driver said as he watched the Mountie in the side mirror. He saw the tender way the red clad officer took Meg's hand as she stepped out carefully, still nearly knocking her head on the door frame.

Meg heard the car drive away from the curb and felt Fraser's hand lay hers along his forearm. Slowly, they walked up the handful of steps leading to the entrance.

“Hello, Ms. Thatcher.” Harvey, the doorman greeted her.

“Good evening, Harvey, how are you?” Meg said automatically, turning to where she thought he was standing. The uniformed doorman started to ask but Fraser shushed him.

“I'm fine, Ms. Thatcher, have a good night.” The forty-ish doorman said as he held the door for them.

Once outside her door, Meg fumbled in her purse for the key to her apartment. It took two tries before she found it in the bottom of the small bag. Even the simplest tasks were more complicated now. Fraser took her keys without a word and unlocked the door. Meg bit her tongue, she knew he was helping her. Without Fraser, she could have handed the cab driver a fifty and he'd never have told her any different.

“Here you are, Inspector.” The Mountie escorted her to the sofa in the living room of her modest but comfortable apartment.

“Thank you, Fraser.” Meg said as she tried to lay her purse on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She ended up dumping it's contents all over the floor. It was the last straw. Meg leaned back against the black, leather loveseat, her hands covering her face as she wept. She heard Fraser close the door and the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor coming toward her.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Sir?” He said as he stooped to put her things back in the small purse.

“Wake me up from this bad dream, Fraser.” She said, leaning her head back against the wall.

“I would that I could.” He snapped the purse shut and laid it on the coffee table as she'd intended to before.

“I can't believe this happened to me, I was simply trying to apprehend that thief, to keep him from getting the handgun and killing you.” Meg snuffed as she tried to stop crying. She didn't want to come unglued, especially not in front of him.

“You were instrumental in catching him, Inspector and I'm grateful that you were there to keep him away from the handgun.” Fraser perched on the loveseat beside her, his voice low but clear as he spoke. “I feel responsible for what's happened.” The Mountie admitted, studying his boots for a moment. Meg turned to face him, surprised.

“Because of what I said when we got back to the consulate?” Meg nearly gasped.

“If I had parked as you asked me to, we would have been on time, perhaps things would be different.” She knew he'd shrugged despite her blindness.

“Fraser, you can 'what if', until you turn blue in the face, it won't change what happened. I made the decision to leave the car and run after you. It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have said what I did.” Meg stopped short of saying she was sorry at first. Saying she was sorry made her feel vulnerable. Then she realized that she was a lot more vulnerable than saying she was sorry would leave her.

“I'm sorry, Constable Fraser, that what I said led you to believe I blamed you.” Meg said humbly.

“I can understand if you did, Inspector. After the shooting, I had similar feelings toward Ray.” Fraser admitted. It had taken a long time to repair their relationship, but they had eventually.

GROWL!! Rumbled up from Meg's stomach before she could say anything.

“You haven't eaten since lunch.” She could hear the smile in Fraser's voice.

“No, I haven't, all I've eaten is a pack of crackers out of my desk and coffee.” Meg wondered what there was in her kitchen she could fix without actually having to cook. Then she decided against trying.

“If it wouldn't be too much trouble, will you call Li's Panda Hut for me, I've inconvenienced you tonight, the least I can do is provide dinner.” Meg found her cordless phone and handed it to Fraser, along with a menu. She heard him dial the number and three rings before Li, the owner, answered.

“What would you like, Inspector?” Fraser asked, covering the phone with one hand.

“Tell him it's Meg Thatcher, to send my usual order.” Meg answered. She smiled at the thought of Li's excellent crab rangoon and lomein noodles.

“He wants to know if you want extra crab rangoon this time?” Fraser relayed.

“Yes, please, oh, and get whatever you want, Fraser.” Meg kicked off her heels and leaned back against the leather love seat.

“Yes, Mr. Li, make that two orders, thank you kindly.” Fraser ended the call and reached across Meg to hang the phone up.

“I hadn't realized I was famished.” Meg fumbled with the large, gold buttons on her velvet jacket. Fraser let her do it for herself. “You must be too.” All the sudden Meg couldn't shut herself up, she didn't know why she was rambling.

“Is there anything I can get you while we wait?” Fraser offered, looking around at the tastefully decorated apartment. He'd never been to her place before, although he'd imagined it often enough. It did and didn't look like what Ben expected of his superior officer's home.

“No, I'm fine, thank you, Fraser.” Meg answered, pulling her feet up beneath her on the love seat. It was like watching a cat curl up in it's favorite snoozing spot. The love seat sat opposite the front door, beside the door was a small television on a walnut book shelf reaching to the ceiling, full of books. Beside the television sat a record player on a painted, plywood stand, records stored beneath it. There were a few pictures scattered around the living room, mostly of Meg and her parents during her childhood.

“You're looking around my living room, aren't you, Fraser.” Meg said, turning on a lamp beside the love seat.

“I was simply noticing the leather bound edition of _Robinson Crusoe_ you have.” Fraser answered, getting up to examine it more closely.

“I've read it several times, my father read it to me first, before I could read.” Meg smiled, remembering her father and the way he made up voices for the characters.

“My grandfather read it to me as well.” The Mountie turned back to her, seeing the reminiscent smile.

“I may have to learn to read all over again in Braille if this surgery doesn't go well.” Meg's smile faded. Ben crossed the room to her.

“Nonsense, you'll be fine.” He sounded more certain than he felt.

“If I don't regain my sight I'll be forced to leave the RCMP, Fraser, what will I do then?” The thought chilled Meg to her core. She felt like crying but what good would that do?

A hundred things ran through Ben's mind as he looked at the strong, intelligent woman he'd come to know since she'd taken the helm at the Canadian Consulate. Ray may call her a dragon lady, but he knew different. Beneath her harsh, often frigid exterior lay the beating heart of a soft, warm woman.

“You'll be fine.” Ben repeated, taking a seat on the couch beside her. Meg hugged herself, trying to ward off the chill that had taken hold of her.

“Li's Panda Hut.” a young, male voice called after a knock interrupted the sad scene.

“Hand me my purse, please, Fraser.” Meg asked as he stood up to answer the door. She found her wallet and pulled out what she hoped was a twenty dollar bill.

“Hello, Ms. Thatcher, Uncle Li was surprised when a guy placed the order.” A young man with smiling eyes and an embroidered name tag denoting his name as Derek.

“Tell your uncle hello for me.” Meg handed Fraser the bank note to give Derek.

“Have a good night, Ms. Thatcher, enjoy.” The young man wished her with a broad smile as he handed Fraser two bags rolling full of food.

“You as well, Derek.” Meg waved from the couch. It surprised Fraser that the doorman and now the delivery guy called her 'Ms' instead of Inspector. He didn't want to ask, but curiosity kept him wondering.

“There's flatware in the kitchen if you'd prefer it, Fraser.” Meg offered, pointing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

“Perhaps it would be best to have some handy.” Fraser went to the kitchen, leaving Meg to smell the delicious scent of crab rangoon, lo mein noodles, General Tso's chicken and other goodies sitting in containers on the coffee table. Carefully, Meg pulled the table closer to the loveseat. Her stomach protested the lack of lunch or an early dinner.

“I brought paper towels as well.” Fraser spoke as he walked back into the living room with a handful of flatware and a roll of paper towels. He stopped when he saw her feeling the edge of the table to make certain she didn't set the containers into thin air.

“Good.” Meg said, setting a container on a magazine. “This is the last thing I get to eat before midnight.” She frowned, wishing she could eat breakfast the next morning.

Ben sat down and began opening boxes to see what he'd ordered. Most of it he could identify from the heavenly scent. Quietly, he watched Meg as she tried to spear lo mein noodles with chopsticks. It was funny but it wasn't at the same time. Ben remembered the first few days in the hospital after being shot. He couldn't dress, couldn't move, couldn't bathe, the world felt very limited and frustrating.

“Would you hand me a fork, Fraser, I shouldn't have opened these chopsticks.” Meg scowled as she set the container of noodles on her lap for a moment. The Mountie handed her a fork without saying anything.

“I can't even feed myself properly.” Meg fumed, taking the fork after Ben handed it to her. “And don't say I'll be fine.” She snapped before she thought.

“I know that right now you aren't fine, Inspector, you're hurt and frustrated and scared. Nothing in your world is fine just now.” Ben replied calmly. He knew how she felt and that was alright with him. That acceptance made Meg feel a bit better, even if it didn't change anything.

“I shouldn't have snapped, Fraser.” Meg set her noodles aside for a moment, leaning her aching head against her hand. She could still sense the light but couldn't make out useful images.

“Thank you for dinner, Inspector.” Fraser gathered his empty containers up and put them in the plastic bag they'd been delivered in.

“You're leaving already, Fraser?” Meg asked, fear evident in her voice. It was nearly ten o'clock.

“Is there something you need me to do first?” He said as he stood in the middle of her living room. Panic tore through Meg and the Mountie could see it as clearly as he could see her lovely, sightless eyes. Ben had never seen her fearful like this. It was disconcerting to him. Meg couldn't speak. How was she supposed to say that she wanted him to stay the night with her?

“No, no, I'll be alright.” Meg sat back against the loveseat, her features still pinched with worry.

“I can stay if you'd like, Inspector.” He offered.

“That wouldn't be proper, Constable Fraser.” Meg said almost before he could finish the sentence.

“You're right, Inspector.” He agreed. There was a moment of dead silence between them. On one hand he wanted to see her safely through the night but on the other he still had to take care of Diefenbaker.

Meg wondered if Ben had left the apartment, he was so quiet. She took up her noodles again but they just didn't satisfy her. What was one night alone in her own apartment?

“I can stay if you'd like, Inspector.” Ben offered again, breaking the silence.

“What about your wolf?” Meg turned to where she thought Ben stood.

“I'll telephone Ray.”

“Will you be comfortable on the loveseat, it isn't very long.” Meg asked, uncurling.

“It will be fine.” Meg knew he was trying to be accommodating but the only other option was sharing her bed. As much as she'd fantasized about that, now wasn't the time. Standing up, Meg managed to find her way to the hall closet between her kitchen and the bedroom. Opening the door, she laid a hand on her spare linens. The whole closet smelled of the Gain dryer sheets she slipped between the yards of material. There were pillow cases, fitted and flat sheets, blankets and two, large spare pillows on the top shelves. Along the bottom shelves were bath towels and wash cloths, all in navy blue or red.

“Here's the spare linen you'll need, help yourself, Fraser.” Meg offered, hearing his heavy foot falls on the wood flooring beside her.

“Thank you, Inspector, I'll be quite comfortable.” Ben assured her with a smile.

“The restroom is there, behind us.” Meg pointed toward a moderately large washroom decorated in a classic, lighthouse motif. Ben had expected something more frilly, with lace and potpourri. Then again, Meg wasn't given to dress in frills and flounces. She wore classy, professional business suits that flattered her figure and complimented her complexion.

“Let me know if you need anything, Fraser.” Meg turned away from the shelves and right into the Mountie. He took her by the shoulders to steady her.

“My apologies, I wasn't paying attention.” Ben stepped back. He'd been studying the Inspector's linen closet. Her apartment told him more about her than he could observe at the consulate. Ben had gained insight into the very private woman he'd been working with for months, the woman he'd kissed atop a runaway train, whom he'd gazed intently upon as she cleaned paint ball splatter off his cheek.

“I'll see you bright and early in the morning, Constable Fraser.” Meg closed the door and stepped the few paces to her large bedroom. When she opened the door Ben spied a large, queen sized cast iron framed bed with a solid, sky blue comforter and white, eyelet lace pillow shams. An Oriental rug covered the space between the bed and a wall full of book shelves opposite the bed. An antique writing desk sat beside the desk with an ivory shaded Victorian style lamp.

“My alarm should go off at five o'clock, just enough time to get ready and get to the hospital.” Meg ran her hand through her dark tresses as she held onto the door knob with the other.

“Good night, Inspector.” Ben wished her. Part of him wanted to pull her into a comforting hug and let her rest against him until this whole thing was over. If only he knew that Meg wanted the same thing.

“Good night, Constable.” Meg said softly, opening the door wider. She leaned on the door until she heard his steps trailing down the hallway toward the living room. Her heart skipped a beat having Fraser staying the night at her house. It was a dream come true, if only the circumstances were different. That thought made Meg a bit sad. Whomever she had a _liaison_ with, they would never be Fraser and he would never loosen up enough to make the first move. Meg tried to imagine his face the last time she'd seen it clearly at the restaurant, how his clear, green eyes lightened in the sun light and how his lower lip was so kissable. She tried to remember how it had felt when he'd gone after that fallen bobby pin on the train, his arms sliding down her frame, making her quiver from the heat of his touch. Meg could almost feel that heat as she dressed in her comfy pajamas.

Ben watched her until she closed the door. Having her so close was like standing with both feet in a camp fire. He wanted so badly to comfort her, to make things better, to feel her body pressed against his, even in the most innocent of ways. The Mountie walked quietly down the hall, a pillow and blanket in hand. It was going to be an interesting night sleeping on a loveseat.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	4. 4

_**The Next Morning …..** _

At five the next morning Meg woke to the smell of coffee wafting through her apartment. It made her stomach growl. It wasn't fair that she couldn't have a sausage biscuit to go with it.

Groaning, the lady Mountie sat up and searched around for her slippers. After a few minutes she found them. At first she put them on the wrong feet. Eventually, Meg shuffled into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Inspector.” Fraser greeted her as she came around the corner.

“Morning, Fraser. Did you sleep alright on the loveseat last night?” She asked, using the counter top to guide her to the coffee pot.

“I slept well, thank you, kindly, Inspector.” Fraser took her hand and pressed a cup of coffee into it. He got a thankful, blissful smile in return.

“I trust you slept well, Inspector.” Fraser took her elbow and guided her to the love seat in the living room. The coffee was black and unsweetened but Meg didn't care, it was brain food.

“As well as could be expected.” She shrugged as she stared into her own darkness. After a sip, Meg turned to Fraser, her brows knit. She could sense him watching her.

“If I asked you to call me by my first name, would you, Fraser?” Meg's voice was low but husky as she stared unseeing at him.

“You have but to ask.” He answered simply. If Meg could have seen him she would have seen Ben studying her closely, his green eyes dark and intense, tempted by her. She'd have said she'd seen that look on him only once, atop a train.

“Call me Meg, please.” She blinked, wishing she could see Fraser.

“Alright, Meg.” He said the name with quiet relish, like looking at a treasure. She grinned behind her coffee cup.

“I should be getting ready.” Meg stood up and set her coffee cup on the table beside the lamp. Ben watched as she stretched, stepping carefully around the coffee table, her pajama top showing a sliver of skin just below her belly button. Meg heard him take a sharp intake of breath. She just kept walking toward her bedroom. The naughty smile on her face was only there for a moment.

Ben had to take a long, deep breath to keep from following Meg down the hall, into her bedroom. Taking advantage of her now would be wrong and he knew it. She was vulnerable and scared, two things that didn't make a solid basis for a good relationship. Ben knew that both of them deserved better than that.

By the time Meg was ready to leave for the hospital, Ben had regained his composure. He stood fully decked out in red serge beside the door. She felt her way along the hallway wall, to the center of the living room before she stopped. Ben came forward to take her hand. He noted how it shook but didn't say anything.

“Am I wearing what I think I am, Fraser?” Meg asked, her hands sliding down the thigh of her tan khaki slacks.

“A white button down blouse and khaki slacks.” Fraser informed her. He felt a blush rising when he saw the dark lace showing beneath the thin material.

“It's chilly out, perhaps a jacket would be advisable.” Fraser said with sudden inspiration.

“Alright, will you get the one I wore yesterday.” Meg pointed toward her bedroom. “It's laying on my hope chest.” Fraser took off after it, eager to get a full view of her inner sanctum.

“Thank you kindly, Fraser.” Meg said as he helped her slip the hunter green jacket on.

_**The Hospital ….** _

“Hey, Benny, I brought Dief.” Ray Vecchio walked through the lobby like he owned the place. The Armani clad detective had a certain confident swagger to his gait that let the world know who was boss.

“Thank you, Ray.” The Mountie thumbed the material of his stiff brimmed Stetson. Meg had been in surgery for almost two hours.

“Where were you last night, I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID.” Ray asked, his hands shoved down into his slacks pockets as he watched a few of the comely, young nurses milling about.

“I escorted Inspector Thatcher home last night.” Fraser answered without elaborating.

“It was after ten when you called, what'd you do, stay the night?” Ray elbowed his friend playfully. As soon as Fraser hung his head the detective knew the answer. “You did! Fraser, you spent the night at the dragon lady's apartment, wow, that's some overtime.” Ray chuckled, watching his friend's face go from a pale flesh tone to a light maroon.

“Inspector Thatcher is totally blind, both retina are damaged.” Fraser defended himself.

“So Thatcher's got to have you to babysit her?” Ray watched a curvy blonde nurse walk past carrying a patient's chart.

“Inspector Thatcher needed assistance getting home as well as getting to the hospital this morning, that's all.” Fraser said stoutly.

“Can't she get one of her girlfriends to come sit with her?” Ray persisted. He and Thatcher had never been overly friendly but neither wished the other any ill will.

“Ray, she asked me to speak as her representative should something go wrong during surgery.” Ben thought back to how afraid Meg had been the night before when she'd asked.

“Thatcher's got to have family or a friend that could have flown in for this.” Ray began to wonder at the Inspector's out of character behavior. He'd never known her to ask Fraser for anything so personal.

“No, Ray, I suspect Inspector Thatcher is very much alone.” Ben said with a note of sadness to his voice.

“You're just going to play nursemaid until she's healed up then, what, about a month or so?” Ray shrugged thinking what a bleeding heart Fraser was to let Thatcher drag him around by the nose.

“I intend to help Inspector Thatcher until she's sufficiently recovered, yes, Ray.” The Mountie sounded a bit miffed at his friend's attitude.

“Are you going to run the consulate from her apartment or turn it over to Turnbull?” Ray asked, wondering how Fraser was going to get out of that pickle.

“The consulate has a guest suite, Inspector Thatcher will be quite comfortable there until she's well.” Fraser responded quickly. He'd already thought of that.

“She's a big girl, Benny, let Thatcher take care of herself.” Vecchio insisted, turning his attention away from nurse watching.

“Ray, I feel that I am deeply responsible for the Inspector's injury, the least I can do is protect her while she's vulnerable.” Fraser answered, studying his high browns for a moment. This could very well be the end of her career and Ben held himself responsible.

“I give up, you're hopeless.” Ray waved his friend's concerns away. He'd never understand Fraser's code anymore than he would fully understood his own.

“Let me know if you need anything, Fraser, you know where to reach me.” Ray handed Fraser Dief's leash and started for the exit.

“Thank you kindly, Ray.” Fraser wished him. They didn't have to fully understand each other or agree to maintain their friendship. Both knew that the other would be there to help in any way should the other need them.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	5. 5

_**Post-OP ….** _

Meg lay on the gurney bandaged and sleeping soundly from the anesthesia as the nurses wheeled her into the post op.

“Ms. Thatcher, it's time to wake up.” One of the nurses said as she checked her pulse. Meg began to rouse as the nurse patted her hand.

“Wake up, Ms. Thatcher, you're out of surgery.” Meg tried to open her eyes but couldn't. She'd forgotten she couldn't see. Panicked, she sat up and began to feel around.

“Inspector Thatcher, it's alright.” Meg heard Fraser's familiar voice nearby. It eased some of her anxiety.

“She's still groggy from the anesthesia, just keep talking to her while I get her vitals.” Meg heard the nurse tell Fraser.

“Inspector, I've spoken with Dr. Brown, he's pleased with the surgery.” Fraser said, racking his brain to think of something to talk about.

“My eyes.” Meg mumbled, her hands going to her face. She felt heavy bandaging covering her eyes from the middle of her forehead to her cheek bones.

“You had to have surgery to repair the retinas of your eyes, remember?” Fraser gently pulled her hand away from her face.

“The robbery, that thief hit me.” She laid back against the bed, her vitals beginning to return to normal.

“Yes, that's correct, Inspector.” Fraser answered, still holding her hand.

“Meg, you said you would call me Meg.” She turned to the sound of his voice at her bed side.

“I did, didn't I, Meg.” Ben said lightly. He smiled when he heard her giggle, the medication making her goofy.

“I still have to call you Fraser though don't I?” She pulled her hand out of his tender grasp.

“Some people call me Ben.” He answered as the nurse walked around the bed.

“I'm sorry, but it's time to get her dressed, will you excuse us, Constable Fraser?” The nurse asked with a smile as she took the personal belongings bag from the foot of the gurney.

“Ah, yes, I'll just step into the lobby.” Fraser excused himself.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

One of the nurses wheeled Meg out to entrance where Ray and the Buick sat waiting. She locked the wheel chair wheels and helped Fraser get Meg stood up. The lady Mountie was little more than a limp dish rag as Fraser helped her into the front passenger seat of the classic car.

“Best of luck, Constable Fraser.” The nurse waved, her best come hither smile lighting up her face.

“Thank you kindly.” Fraser nodded back as he walked around the car to get in the back seat behind Ray.

“Come on, Fraser, I haven't got all day.” Ray fussed as Dief jumped in beside the Mountie.

“I appreciate you coming on such short notice, Ray.” Fraser said as he leaned forward to check on the Inspector.

“Ah, don't mention it, Fraser, heaven knows that I don't have anything better to do than play taxi with you and Thatcher.”

Meg could hear the conversation but the medicine made her feel like her mouth was too heavy for her to say anything. It was disconcerting to be in a vehicle, feeling the forward motion without seeing where she was going.

At the consulate Turnbull was waiting for his superior officers when Ray drove up to the curb. Fraser helped Meg out of the car then picked her up like a little girl. The junior Mountie rushed to get Meg's belongings bag from Ray who held them as if they were pink lace lingerie or something equally as frilly.

“How are you, Inspector?” Turnbull asked nearly shouting into her ear. Meg dodged his voice.

“Constable Turnbull, the Inspector is temporarily blinded, not deaf.” Fraser said as he passed through the open consulate door with her in his arms.

“I'm not deaf, Dief is deaf.” Meg giggled at the joke as she laid her head on Fraser's shoulder.

“I'd love to know what it was they dosed her with, it's bound to be some strong stuff.” Ray said as he followed them up the stairs and into the entrance hall.

“I've freshened up the second guest suite as you requested, Constable Fraser.” Turnbull closed the door behind them.

“Thank you kindly, Constable.” Fraser easily carried Meg up the stairs to the last bedroom on the left and laid her gently on the four poster bed. She immediately rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. Ray and Turnbull stood behind Fraser, watching as he took off her loafers and laid a fleece blanket over her. Turning, Fraser saw the two exchange a knowing glance.

“We should leave her to rest for a while.” Ben shooed them out of the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“I've got to get going, Welsh is riding my back about paperwork again.” Ray walked down the stairs. “Ma's baking a lasagna for you, I'll bring it over later.” The detective shook his head.

“Give Mrs. Vecchio my sincere thanks won't you, Ray.” Ben walked his friend to the door.

“Yeah, sure, Fraser, you know Ma, lasagna fixes everything.” He could almost smell the melting cheese and meat as he spoke.

“Your mother is an excellent cook, I'm certain the world would be a more peaceful place if there were more gentle souls like hers.” Fraser complimented easily.

“See you later, Fraser.” Ray waved before getting into his Riv. The Mountie waved back. After a moment Ben walked back up the stairs, there were things to be done and the consulate was a Mountie down without Meg.

_**After Lasagna ….** _

Meg woke up hungry and confused, the room didn't smell right, not at all like her Gain scented linens and orange shampoo. She sat up, her head aching and her stomach protesting almost twenty-four hours without food.

“Fraser.” Meg groaned, sitting up holding her head. “Fraser.” She called again, louder. A moment later she heard the sound of heavy boots approaching on the hardwood floor.

“Yes, Meg.” He said after the door flew open.

“Where am I?” She asked, feeling of the navy blue, fleur de lis patterned spread under her.

“At the consulate.” He answered, standing at the foot of the bed, watching her get her bearings.

“Whatever for, what's wrong with my apartment?” Meg asked crossly.

“I felt that the consulate was more convenient.” Ben answered, glad that she couldn't see him squirm.

“Please tell me that I'm not in the Queen's Suite.” Meg's feet hit the floor and she felt around for her shoes. She heard Fraser take a step and then she felt him take hold of her foot. Before she could speak she felt him gently slide her loafers back on her feet.

“No, this is the Princess Margaret suite.” He answered between shoes. Meg stood up and began to take timid steps into the middle of the room.

“Be careful, there's a nitrous oxide bubble behind each retina to keep them in place, Dr. Brown's instructions were to keep your head down, your forehead parallel to the ground.” Fraser instructed, his hand extended toward hers.

“I have to use the lavatory and get something to eat.” Meg drew her chin down to her chest. She felt Fraser take her hand and guide her to the restroom door in the corner of the room. He laid her hand on the sink marble then closed the door behind her. Fraser stepped discretely across the room while Meg was indisposed.

“I've been thinking, I'll need to gather some of my personal items from my apartment, clothes and the like. I suppose being at the consulate has an upside, at least I'll be able to answer any questions you might have.” The lady Mountie groaned as she held her head with one hand and felt her way toward the door with the other.

“I'll fetch them tomorrow, first thing.” Ben took her hand and lead her down the hall.

“Is there anything in the kitchen, I'm starved.” Meg enjoyed his reassuring presence and the way he helped her without making her feel helpless or pathetic.

“Detective Vecchio's mother sent over a pan of lasagna, there's more than half left.” Ben answered, laying Meg's free hand on the bannister. Slowly, she descended the stairs, her heel dragging down each step. Meg was glad that the stairs were carpeted, or it could have been painful going.

“I try to avoid red meat but I'm so hungry I'll make an exception .” As if to say 'Amen', her stomach growled.

“It's quite good, Meg.” Ben tightened his grip on her fingers as they reached the bottom step. That made her pause, that and the sound of her name on his lips.

“Last step.” Ben lead her down one more step then turned toward he kitchen. He carefully seated her at the high, pine work table in the center of the large kitchen. She listened as he opened the refrigerator, then pulled out a drawer for a serving spoon, then another for a teaspoon and fork. Next Fraser opened a higher cabinet for a plate. He dished out a hearty portion of the lasagna and put it in the microwave beneath the cabinet. Four, angry, digital beeps later Meg heard the contraption come to life. While it warmed he reopened the refrigerator and drew out a jug of orange juice. Meg listened to him unscrew the cap and take a sniff before closing it and swirling it around. Meg could tell that it was orange juice from the mouth watering tang in the air.

“Is there any coffee made, Fraser?” She asked, wrinkling her nose at the thought of orange juice with lasagna. It needed cheesy garlic bread and a red wine.

“I'll make some.” The Mountie put the OJ back in the refrigerator and turned to the coffee pot. The microwave beeped noisily. Meg slid off the bar stool and felt her way to the microwave. She fumbled with the unlatching mechanism then reached in to retrieve her late dinner.

“Ouch, blast it!” She hissed as she set the extremely hot plate back on the glass turntable.

“Here, allow me.” Ben took the plate out and set it on the table. He guided Meg to the kitchen sink and turned on the cold water. Gently, he put her fingers in the cold, tap water.

“It's going to be a long recovery, isn't it, Fraser.” Meg said, her head hanging.

“I'd imagine the last two days have felt like an eternity.” Ben commented, pulling a dish towel from the oven handle on the stove nearby.

“You have no idea.” She sighed, letting him dry her hands like a child. “But I guess you do too though, I've read your medical reports from before my assignment to Chicago.” She knew that he had a still painful wound from a slug to his eighth thoracic vertebra. Meg could just imagine Fraser lower his head before raising it again as if there were no emotion. The pain hung in the air, in the silence, almost like smoke. Victoria's betrayal followed by Ray's near fatal shot had sidelined the Mountie for months, both physically and emotionally.

“I shouldn't have said anything.” Meg said quietly.

“No need to worry.” Ben's voice sounded tension free. Meg hoped he hadn't forced it.

“I should eat before it gets cold again.” Meg changed the subject, her hands still tangled in Ben's and the dish towel. He took the dish towel away from her and lead her to the table. Meg found her fork and spoon without help and managed to eat the lasagna without making a mess of herself and the kitchen. After a few bites Fraser had her coffee fixed to suit her and sitting on the table.

“Thank you, Fraser, you've gone above and beyond the call of duty to help me through this.” Meg sat on the stood, her back straight and her head high.

“You're welcome, Meg.” Fraser answered, taking her hand to guide her back up the stairs.

_“I wish I knew if he knows I mean it?”_ Meg wondered as she mounted the steps beside Fraser, her other hand enjoying the silky smoothness of the wooden bannister beneath her fingers. As long as she'd known Benton Fraser, she still didn't understand him. Men had always been easy to read, and easy to manipulate, all until she'd met the misplaced Mountie here in Chicago. He seemed too good to be true, but he kept proving that he was the real McCoy, every day.

“Is there anything I can do before you retire for the evening?” Ben offered as he let go of Meg's hand.

“I'll just take one of the pain killers Dr. Brown prescribed and I'll be fine.” Meg took a seat on the bed, slipping her feet out of her loafers and pulling her feet up beneath her. She stared sightlessly toward the door where Fraser stood watching her.

“I'll be downstairs if you need anything.” Fraser turned to leave. He heard Meg throw back the comforter and fluff the pillows.

“Fraser” He had only stepped a few feet from the door when he heard her call his name.

“Yes?” He called through the door.

“I don't have anything to wear tonight.” She answered from the other side of the door. Ben leaned his head against the door, groaning. He hadn't anticipated that.

“Let me see what I can find, just a moment.” He shoved himself away from the wall and hurried to his office. Ben pulled out his foot locker and rummaged for a minute. He came up with a dark t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants.

“They'll swallow her, but they're better than nothing.” Ben stood stock still, the thought of Meg in nothing flashing through his mind. “Oh dear.” He muttered to himself. The Mountie took a long, calming breath before he took the change of clothes upstairs and tapped on the door.

“Come in, Fraser.” Meg called, seated on the turned down bed, her blouse untucked, the bed side lamp light casting a golden glow about her.

“I've found a t-shirt and sweatpants for tonight.” He laid them beside her on the bed and began to back away.

“Thank you, Fraser.” Meg waited until she heard the door close and the sound of his steps growing faint before she pressed the clothing to her nose and inhaled his singular scent. If she couldn't see him at least she could smell him, that was some comfort.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	6. 6

_**The Next Morning ….**_.

“Meg, would you like to get a few of your things this morning before your follow up appointment?” Ben asked after tapping on the door. Meg opened the door wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Yes, thank you, Fraser.” Her hair was a mess and she was bare foot. Fraser noticed the red polish on her toes and a white racing stripe down the center of each big toe. It seemed rather out of character for her, but cute.

“I've prepared biscuits, sausage gravy, scrambled eggs and hash browns downstairs if you'd care to eat breakfast.” The Mountie offered.

“Is there coffee?” Meg asked, smiling as she put out her hand for Fraser to guide her to the stairs.

“Yes, I made some fresh as soon as I woke up.” Ben answered.

“What time is it right now?” Meg wondered, treading down the stairs carefully.

“Six-thirty.” He answered naturally.

“What time is my follow up appointment with Dr. Brown?”

“Eleven o'clock.” Meg groaned at his answer, then she took a deep breath and decided to enjoy the chance to eat before Turnbull arrived for work.

“Good morning, Inspector Thatcher.” came the voice that startled Meg. She screamed and began to stumble, grabbing onto the bannister for support.

“Fraser, you should have told me that Constable Turnbull was in the consulate.” She turned and began to walk back up the stairs, out of sight.

“Inspector, I wasn't aware he'd arrived.” Ben followed her, taking her hand. Meg just as quickly yanked it back.

 _“This is such a mess.”_ Meg groaned as she closed the bedroom door, wishing she could teleport to her apartment then to her appointment.

“My apologies, Sir.” She heard Fraser take a deep breath and release it slowly.

“Constable Fraser, will you please bring me a plate?” Meg asked, her voice strained. She didn't hear him respond. Curious, she got up and listened at the door. She heard his foot falls on the back staircase as he descended into the kitchen.

“Here's your tray, Inspector.” Fraser's voice sounded as he tapped on the door.

“Come in, Fraser.” Meg answered from the bed where she sat with her head down, forehead parallel to the floor.

“Perhaps it would be better if I asked Francesca Vecchio to lend you something.” Fraser spoke as if he were talking more to himself than to Meg.

“Nonsense, Fraser, I can retrieve my own things before we leave for my appointment.” Meg felt Ben set the tray on the bed beside her. Carefully, he handed her a cup of coffee fixed to suit her. He always remembered how she took her coffee.

“Breakfast smells wonderful.” Meg complimented gently, feeling embarrassed at her earlier over reaction.

“Thank you kindly.” Fraser said automatically, still standing beside the bed, thinking.

“Your breakfast is getting cold, Fraser.” Meg said, feeling his presence towering over her.

“Ah, yes, it is.” He turned, feeling dismissed.

“Fraser,” Meg said before he could reach the door.

“Yes?” He said expectantly, turning back toward her.

“I wasn't prepared for Constable Turnbull to see me so, how shall I say?” Meg paused, “So unprepared, I may have over reacted.”

“Understood.” Meg could only imagine the look on Fraser's face; resignation, reservation. He hesitated for a moment before leaving.

 _“You are such a nincompoop, Margaret Thatcher.”_ She said to herself, sighing as she took a bite of scrambled eggs covered in gravy.

After eating the entire plate, Meg was comfortably full. She'd eaten Ben's cooking before, when he was trying to keep a dairy producer from killing a chicken farmer, but that omelet was nothing compared to the fluffy, golden biscuits, perfectly spiced sausage gravy and scrambled eggs he'd prepared for her. Fraser was a better cook than most women. Meg wanted to slip a ring on his left hand just so he'd cook for her.

“Inspector, are you finished?” Fraser called through the closed door.

“Come in, Fraser, I'm done.” Meg called, sitting on the side of the bed, both of her elbows on her knees as she held her face in her hands.

“Are you alright, Meg?” Ben knelt down to her level, studying her hunched over form.

“I'm fine, Fraser, just trying to keep those nitrous oxide bubbles in place as the doctor ordered.” Meg's cheerful voice sounded forced.

“I've called a taxi to take us to your apartment, it should arrive in a few minutes. Is there anything you need before we leave?” Ben asked, thinking how naturally beautiful Meg was when she wasn't trying to be. All the strands of pearls, Max Factor and Channel were only gaudy ornaments.

“Just my purse.” Meg shrugged. “I must look like a bum in this.” She adjusted the t-shirt across her shoulders and sat up straight.

“No, Meg, you look fine.” Ben said softly, rising to gather the tray of dishes. He ached to touch her tousled hair. Meg sniffed, unconvinced.

“I'll follow you down the back stairs, just let me slip my shoes on and find my purse.” Meg stood up, ready to be back in her apartment, even if it was just long enough to get a week's worth of clothes and her toiletries.

“Lay your hand on my shoulder and we'll be on our way.” Fraser stood with his back to her, waiting for Meg to find him. Did she ever, Ben felt her hand hit him in the lower back and then her fingers work their way up his spine until she found his shoulder. He could feel the heat of her hand through his uniform and undershirt.

“I'm ready.” Meg said, letting him lead her through the doorway, down the hall and into the kitchen. He took slow, careful steps so she could keep up easily. In the total darkness, it was difficult to judge depth so Meg bumped into the kitchen door frame.

“Ouch!” She took her hand off Fraser's shoulder and laid it on her bicep where she was certain she'd have a new bruise before the day was through.

“Are you alright, Meg?” Ben asked over his shoulder.

“Yes, I'm fine, I simply found the door frame the hard way.” She groped in the darkness to find his back again, this time finding his neck instead. The feel of her fingers brushing the back of his neck was intoxicating, leaving him a bit dazed.

“Are we in the kitchen yet?” Meg asked, wondering why Fraser had stopped.

“Yes, we're in the kitchen.” He took a short step toward the sink to deposit Meg's breakfast dishes. It was going to be a long day if she kept this up.

_**Meg's Apartment ….** _

Meg bit her bottom lip as they rode the elevator up to her apartment, wondering how she was going to get her things without Fraser's help. She knew that he would do anything necessary to help her in any way, but there were somethings that a woman needed to do for herself. Things like gathering her delicates and other personal items from the bathroom.

“Here we go.” Fraser said when they reached Meg's floor. He took her hand, tucking it between his side and his left arm as he guided her toward her apartment at the end of the hallway. Ben took her keys and unlocked the door.

“This shouldn't take long.” Meg could find her way though her house without Fraser's arm, but she didn't want to. It felt nice to be so close to him.

“Take as long as necessary.” He led her to her bedroom door and placed her hand on the door frame.

“I'll need you to get my overnight bag out of the closet, if you don't mind, Fraser.” Meg turned back to where he stood. He saw the closed accordion closet door and swallowed hard.

“Don't worry, nothing in there will bite.” Meg teased, her lips pulling into a playful smile. “My overnight bag is on the top shelf, I have to stand in a kitchen chair to reach it.” She walked over to the closet door and easily folded it back and took a step inside, yanking the overhead light on. Fraser was amazed at how comfortable she was in her apartment, how she'd already adapted to her temporary blindness. He walked into the closet and looked around at the extremely well organized space. There were her usual business suits at the front, heavy winter coats at the back along the right side and on the left were other pieces, sweaters, formal dresses, and one long garment bag with a poofy bottom. Through the clear plastic Fraser saw a rainbow colored tulle skirt and dark blue sequins of a mermaid tailed, strapless dress. From the looks of it, Meg had worn it in high school. He also saw a pink, purple and blue swirled hat with sequins. The colors blended like cotton candy, the sequins shimmering in the overhead light.

“Did you find it, Fraser?” Meg asked when she thought he'd surely been in there long enough.

“Yes, here it is.” He pulled the dark maroon bag from the shelf, a hard backed journal falling on his foot. Ben stooped down and retrieved the book.

“It will just take a moment to gather what I'll need at least for the next few days.” Ben held the journal in his hands, tapping it softly against the palm of his hand. Meg began puttering around the room, using the furniture as her guide. First she found her house shoes, then went to the dresser and began pulling out the drawers. In went pajama bottoms and tops, from the closet came slacks and blouses as well as a few sweaters.

“I can manage, Fraser.” Meg turned to stare sightlessly in his direction, one hand on the knobs on the top cherry dresser drawer . It was his cue to leave while she gathered her delicates.

“Understood.” Fraser walked out to the living room. He realized that he still held the journal. It was navy blue leather with _MT_ in stamped in gold in the bottom corner. Curiosity burned in the Mountie but he dared not open the five by eight tome. He could only imagine what Meg would have to say if she caught him with it. He couldn't very well go back into the bedroom with it and put it back on the shelf. The Inspector was many things, but she wasn't stupid or unobservant. Fraser tucked it in his tunic and resolved to put it back another time.

“I'm ready when you are, Fraser.” Meg came out of the bathroom redressed in a pair of black, pleat fronted slacks and a cherry red blouse. She'd ran a brush through her silky hair.

“Ah, Meg, you've got two different color trouser socks on.” Ben said, trying to suppress a smile. He saw the flicker of annoyance on her face.

“Which one is black?” She put one hand on her hip.

“Your right foot.” Ben answered, his smile evident in his voice. Meg would have rolled her eyes had things been different. She turned on her heel and walked back toward the bedroom. When she returned her trouser socks matched and she was carrying her overnight bag.

“What time is it?” Meg put her hand over her left wrist where she usually wore a watch.

“Ten o'clock.” Fraser answered as church bells rang out the time.

“That's just enough time to get to Dr. Brown's office.” Meg smiled, pleased.

“Shall we?” Ben took her hand and the overnight bag. Together they left the apartment building. _**Dr. Brown's office ….**_

Meg felt cool air on her face as Dr. Brown took the bandaging off. Fraser sat in a chair watching as the doctor pulled out his pen light to examine the Inspector more carefully.

“How is the pain level, Ms. Thatcher?” Dr. Brown asked, using a cleaning astringent to get sticky tape off of her cheeks.

“It's alright, Dr. Brown, I slept until late yesterday evening.” Meg said, her fingers digging into the arms of the exam chair. Fraser noted the increase in her breathing and the higher pitch of her usually husky voice. Meg was terrified and the Mountie could see it.

“It's almost over, Inspector Thatcher.” Fraser said, moving close enough to lay a reassuring hand on her forearm. He saw her relax a bit.

“Yes, it's just about over. It was a good thing you had surgery when you did, you avoided complications. Everything is looking good.” Dr. Brown leaned back, turning on the overhead light. One of the nurses brought replacement bandaging.

“How long will it be before the nitrous oxide bubbles have dissipated?” Meg asked, still squirming in the exam chair.

“At least two weeks, possibly longer.” Dr. Brown answered with a grimace. “Until then you need to keep your forehead parallel with the floor at least forty-five minutes out of every hour.” Meg gripped the chair arms again, but this time Fraser saw it was out of frustration, not fear.

“How am I supposed to get anything done?” Mostly the lady Mountie wondered how she was supposed to take a shower.

“In fifteen minute spurts.” Dr. Brown shrugged. He'd been asked that same question as long as he'd been a retina specialist.

“That won't do, Dr. Brown, that just won't do.” Meg balled her hands into fists.

“It's two weeks of inconvenience or a lifetime of blindness.” Dr. Brown laid it out flatly. He'd seen the fear and impatience before. There wasn't anything to be done but suffer through it. Meg huffed but didn't say anything else, not that she didn't want to.

“Are there any other instructions, Dr. Brown?” Fraser asked, changing the subject.

“No unnecessary exertions and no stairs for a few days.” Dr. Brown turned to the red serge clad officer. The good doctor had seen the way the Mountie conducted Meg through the maze of halls in his office, her arm held fast in the crook of his arm. Brown couldn't figure if Fraser's protectiveness was of the boyfriend sort or the brotherly sort. Either way, Meg Thatcher didn't seem to mind having him close at hand.

 _“Great, now I'm stuck upstairs at the consulate.”_ Meg thought to herself.

“Do you have any other questions?” Dr. Brown inquired, standing up to leave.

“No, thank you, Dr. Brown.” Meg leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, hands holding her face as she leaned seemed to peer down at her feet.

“Alright, see the receptionist on your way out and I'll see you in two weeks.” Dr. Brown shook Fraser's hand before leaving.

Meg felt grumpy, just plain old grumpy. She didn't want to be laid up for the next two weeks, nothing to occupy her mind. She couldn't even look out the window at the world below.

“Where would you like to eat lunch, Inspector?” Fraser asked cheerfully, hoping he wouldn't get his head bit off for it.

“The consulate is fine, Fraser, might as well get used to it.” Meg answered sullenly. With a huffy sigh she let Fraser help her to her feet and down the hall toward the receptionist. From somewhere behind the pleasant sounding lady, Meg could smell a cinnamon scented candle. She heard the sound of people in the waiting room talking among themselves. Since she'd been blinded her hearing and olfactory senses had amplified just a bit. Meg could tell the difference between Fraser's foot steps and those of Dr. Brown.

“Here's your appointment card, Ms. Thatcher.” Rita, a plump nurse with dimples in her cheeks handed Fraser the card over the reception desk.

“Thank you kindly, Rita.” Meg heard the older nurse giggle like a school girl when Fraser said her name.

“You're very welcome.” She smiled broadly. Meg just shook her head, (more figuratively than literally).

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

 

 

 

 


	7. 7

_**Dinner ….** _

Meg ate lunch at the consulate, which was good, since Fraser had all of her duties as well as his own to catch up on. After her turkey sandwich and small, green salad, the lady Mountie laid down for a nap. There wasn't much else to do, nothing on television, there wasn't a radio, and she couldn't very well read. That left napping as Meg's newest hobby.

“I'm going to weigh a ton when this is all over.” She grumbled to herself as she lay face down on the bed, a fleece throw pulled around her. Before she realized it, Meg had fallen asleep. She drifted off into a peaceful, dream filled sleep.

“Meg, are you hungry?” Came Fraser's voice just as she reached out to touch him in her dreams.

“What?” She said, trying to figure out why it was so dark.

“It's dinner time as well as time for your eye drops.” Fraser opened the door. Meg's heart sank when she heard eye drops. She hated having anyone or anything around her eyes. The last time Meg had had an eye exam she'd had to take a small dose of Valium to relax enough for the doctor to look at her. She wasn't proud of it. The lady Mountie liked to be in control of the situation around her and being pinned into a chair with someone dropping cold, goopey eye drops that burnt into her eyes wasn't her idea of control. Sometimes Meg found it difficult to put on her eye make-up because she hated having anything near her face.

“I'll be quick about it.” Ben stepped forward, drops ready. Meg took a deep breath, steeling herself for the cold, burning liquid. She tilted her head against the post at the foot of the bed and opened her eyes. Before she had time to squirm, Ben had dropped a single drop in each eye. Meg loved his split second method. The drops made her shudder and shake her head as they settled. They found their way into her sinuses and down the back of her throat. Meg almost gagged. Fraser pressed a glass of water into her hands. She took a sip before pulling her eye patches back over her eyes.

“Ick, thank you, Fraser. Those drops are nasty.” Meg shook and shivered as she sat on the bed.

“Are you ready for supper?” The Mountie said, wishing Meg could come downstairs so they could eat together.

“Yes, what is it?” Meg's mouth watered.

“Beef stew.” At the sight of Meg's wrinkled nose, Ben offered, “I could find something else.”

“No, I shouldn't be picky, beggars can't be choosers. Thank you Fraser.” Meg schooled her features.

“You don't like carrots, do you?” He squatted down to her level, his elbows on his knees and his undershirt's sleeves pulled up near his elbows.

“No, I don't. I guess I should, maybe this wouldn't have happened.” Meg joked morosely. If only she could have seen Ben flinch.

“I've brought your tray.” Ben stood up and retrieved the tray from the dresser top. He'd set up a TV tray earlier for her.

“Have you eaten already, Fraser?” The lady Mountie asked, secretly hoping that he'd brought his dinner up to eat with her.

“Yes, Dief and I ate earlier.” Ben answered, seeing a hint of disappointment cross Meg's face. “I believe Turnbull left some chocolate cake with white frosting and sprinkles.” He wasn't an expert on women, but the Mountie knew that the vast majority of them enjoyed sweets, especially chocolate.

“That sounds good.” Meg said, her features neutral. She loved chocolate, but hated the gym.

“Shall I bring you a slice?” Ben asked as he edged toward the door.

“A small one, thank you.” Meg flashed a perfunctory smile. A few minutes later the Mountie had returned with a fair sized slice of chocolate cake on a dessert plate. It smelled heavenly.

“You picked all the carrots out didn't you, Fraser?” Meg had started on the beef stew with a large yeast roll and a glass of iced tea.

“Yes, you said you didn't like them.” Ben answered innocently.

“You didn't have to.” Meg said flatly.

“My apologies, I simply assumed ….” His voice trailed off.

“Fraser, you don't have to cater to me like this. I won't go into convulsions if I eat a slice of carrot.” Meg fussed.

“Would you like me to bring you another dish of beef stew with carrots?” Now Ben was confused, did she or didn't she want carrots, and why was she fussing anyway? He was just trying to be considerate.

“No, Fraser, I'm not talking about the beef stew or the carrots. I'm talking about you catering to me like a servant out of a Dickens novel.” Meg sighed. _“I'm not expressing myself very well.”_ She thought to herself. It was frustrating not being able to get up and get things for herself, the way she preferred them. If she could do it for herself then it wouldn't bother anyone, it'd be done and over with.

“I'll see you in the morning, Fraser.” Meg said grumpily. It was a concentrated effort on her part not to snap at him. She knew that he didn't deserve to be treated like that, Fraser was going out on a limb for her.

“What about your last dose of eye drops for the day?” Ben wondered, still puzzled by her behavior.

“I had forgotten.” She frowned, setting aside the beef stew and finding her way to the chocolate cake.

“I'll be out of the consulate taking Diefenbaker for a walk, is there anything you need before I leave?” Ben asked, his tone neutral.

“No, Fraser, thank you.” The lady Mountie answered, wishing she hadn't even said anything.

Without saying anything Fraser walked out of the Princess Margaret Suite, closing the door behind him.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Fraser took Dief for a long walk around the block, several blocks actually. He hadn't spent much time with his old, furry friend and he needed to suss a few things out in his mind.

 _“Quit worrying, she'll be fine alone. You leave me alone all the time, and I'm not house broken.”_ Dief seemed to say as he dragged along a stick he'd picked up along the side walk.

“Yes, but you have your eye sight, Meg is defenseless just now.” Ben argued, toying with the buckle on his Sam Brown belt.

 _“I'm short one of my senses too you know.”_ Dief reminded him with one eye roll.

“But you can see, not to mention the three inch canine teeth, speed, agility, keen olfactory senses and a reputation as being at the top of the food chain.” Ben reminded him. Dief huffed and trotted up ahead.

“I just can't help feeling responsible, and she feels frustrated and scared. This isn't at all the ideal situation.” Ben lamented as he caught up to Dief who was sniffing the scent of a thoroughbred poodle on a fire hydrant.

 _“Do as I would do, take control, show her who's the alpha male. Make her catch up to you for a change.”_ Dief advised.

“This isn't an episode of _Wild Kingdom,_ there are extenuating circumstances.” Fraser argued, sounding a bit unsure.

 _“Let's go back to the den, I've lost the scent of that poodle.”_ Dief changed the subject. Ben was content to follow the wolf's lead.

Back at the consulate Ben did his usual check of the windows and doors, making certain that they were closed and locked for the night. He then settled down to read until time for Meg's drops. He opened his foot locker to get out his red long johns and found Meg's journal.

“I should return this, perhaps I should tell her that I've taken it by mistake.” Ben thought to himself as he held the small tome. Watching the gold leaf glitter in the light, her turned it from one side to the other. A photograph slipped out and hit the floor at the Mountie's boots. Stooping over, he picked it up. His eyes widened when he saw himself. On further examination, Ben saw that it was a picture clipped out of the _Chicago Sun-Times_ from the Bolt case, from the train. It had been neatly trimmed with pinking shears and clear laminate covered both sides. On the back, on a white adhesive label Meg had written _'The Kiss'_ , in her clear but feminine handwriting.

“She hasn't forgotten.” Ben smiled, remembering the train, and the thousand other instances he'd wanted to kiss her. Looking at the journal's exterior, he detected other news paper articles that had been pressed between the pages. “She would be furious if she knew I had this.” The Mountie thought to himself. From his pallet on the floor Dief whined in warning.

 _“Don't do it old friend.”_ He seemed to say.

“You're quite right, it wouldn't be right, I'd be spying.” Ben laid the journal into the top drawer of his desk and tried his best to forget the little book. When the church bell chimed ten o'clock the Mountie's mind returned to his responsibility upstairs.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Meg had been listening to the television sitting on a night stand Turnbull had brought up for her the previous day. It was small and rather old, being black and white, but what did that matter to a woman who couldn't see. So far since supper she'd listened to episodes of _Chicago Hope, Early_ _Edition_ and _Law and Order._ None of the episodes were as interesting as her every day life. Having subordinates like Fraser kept her life interesting. Meg turned the television off when she heard the church bells outside chime ten. On the tenth chime she heard Fraser knock.

“Come in, Fraser.” Meg called, seated at the foot of the bed, waiting. The Mountie walked in, drops in hand.

“Good evening, Meg, how has your evening been?” He smiled when he saw her wearing his t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

“Being cooped up makes me long for a good quarterly budget report to sink my teeth into.” She joked with an easy smile. Ben was glad to see her mood had improved.

“I can imagine.” He agreed, twisting the cap off. Gently he rubbed the bottle between the palms of his hands to warm it before dropping it in Meg's eyes. She pushed off her patches and leaned her head against the bed post. By the time she'd summoned a deep breath she felt the first drop. Most of the first drop slid down her cheek. Gently, Ben wiped the cool liquid from her face with his thumb. His touch lingered, tracing her jaw line with the back of his hand. Meg sat perfectly still, enjoying the soft, caring feel of his rough hand on her skin. Timidly, Meg reached up and laid her hand over his, running her thumb up his palm. For a long moment they stayed like that, not speaking, not ruining the illusive magic between them.

“I should try to get another drop in your eye.” Ben finally said, his voice low and deep. He hated to think that he could have done something to prevent Meg's injuries and hadn't. Her eyes were bruised, purple and blue circles against her alabaster skin. Seeing her like this made Ben's throat ache. His worst fear was that she'd never see again, that his mistake would cost Meg her career, that it would take her away from him. Their relationship wasn't ideal, but at least he could see her every day. That meant that there was still hope.

“Alright.” Meg let go of Fraser's hand and opened her left eye for him to try again. She felt the fat, wet drop hit her eye and immediately slammed it closed.

“Well, one day down, six weeks of eye drops to go.” Meg joked as she fit the protective, plastic back over her eyes.

“It will be over before you can say Jack Robinson.” Fraser set the small bottle of drops back on the dresser.

“I hope so, Fraser.” Meg sighed, torn between enjoying the touch she'd just shared with Ben and eagerness to know if the surgery was successful.

“Good night, Meg.” Ben wished her before turning to leave.

“Good night, Fraser, sleep well.” She wished him, getting up and following him to the door.

“Sleep well, Meg.” Hearing him say her name was a dream come true. Softly, Ben closed the door and left Meg smiling in the room alone.

 _“I love you, Ben.”_ Meg whispered to herself as she carefully crossed the room to the bed.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

_**Author's Note:**_  Suggestion really: To Whomever reads this; if you ever have the chance to, watch Joss Whedon's _Much Ado About Nothing_ starring Amy Acker and Alexis Denisof, both formerly of the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ spin off _Angel._ It's funny, it's thoughtful and expertly acted.  


	8. 8

_**Day Two After Surgery ….** _

Meg smelled the coffee immediately upon waking up. She'd gone on to bed after Fraser had but her last set of eye drops in. Sleeping and dreaming well hadn't been a problem. The lady Mountie went to the dresser and pulled out what she hoped was a pair of dark jeans, a maroon, cashmere sweater and navy blue casual socks. She was in the restroom when she heard a tap at the door.

“I'm coming.” She called, having locked the door while she got dressed. Slowly, Meg felt her way to the door and unlocked it to let Fraser in with her breakfast.

“Good morning, Inspector Thatcher.” Constable Turnbull's voice greeted her.

“Hello, Constable Turnbull.” Meg tried to hide her disappointment as she opened the door for the junior Mountie. He waltzed in and put her breakfast tray on the folding table by the bed.

“Constable Fraser said to tell you he was sorry that he couldn't administer your eye drops this morning, he had to leave early for a court appearance.” Turnbull explained.

“Oh yes, they're arraigning the restaurant thief today aren't they.” Meg remembered, wishing she were able to go.

“Would you like me to administer the drops, Sir?” Turnbull offered. Meg froze like a deer in the headlights.

“Uh, no thank you, Constable Turnbull, I'll take care of it myself.” She rushed to explain.

After Turnbull left, Meg tried to give herself the eye drops. It took three tries and a wet face before she succeeded. She drank her coffee first before diving into Turnbull's peach flavored oatmeal. It was delicious but it wasn't Fraser's cooking.

The consulate seemed empty and lonely without the super Mountie around. He had a way of sending a ripple through the aura of a room, at least to Meg's way of thinking. She knew whether or not he was at the consulate of a morning usually before she even stepped inside. If he were there it felt like home, if Ben were gone it seemed hollow. Meg didn't care if he seemed to talk to himself while standing in the closet. What was a little odd behavior when you were in love with a guy that would dip carrot slices out of your beef stew without being asked?

Meg turned on the television after breakfast just to have some noise that wasn't Turnbull running the vacuum. From the feel of the warmth on the window panes, she could tell that it was a beautiful, sunny day. It made her restless that she couldn't see it for herself. She didn't expect Fraser back any time soon. From experience, Meg knew that things at the Cook County Courthouse moved like maple syrup in Siberia. A nine o'clock court appearance had a tendency to run through lunch and on toward supper. After lunch Meg took a nap, just to pass the time. There wasn't anything on except trashy talk shows anyway. If you've seen one fat, vulgar woman slap a skinny, crude floozy, you've seen them all.

_**Cook County Courthouse …** _

“Hey, Fraser, I wasn't expecting to see you here.” Ray greeted his friend. The detective had unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie.

“I came to the arraignment of the young thief from the restaurant.” Fraser answered, his hat in hand. People moved like water around them along the marble floored corridor outside the courtroom.

“How's the Inspector doing since the surgery?” Ray asked, slipping his hands into his slacks pockets.

“Dr. Brown was very pleased with the results, but the Inspector is frustrated with her recuperation progress.” Fraser answered truthfully.

“I can only imagine what she's like when she's sick.” Ray grinned, slapping his friend on the shoulder. Fraser looked at his boots for a moment, a forced smile on his handsome features.

“Have you had lunch, Fraser?” Ray asked to change the subject.

“No, I haven't.” The Mountie hadn't eaten since five that morning and it was nearly two o'clock.

“There's a sub shop around the corner, are you finished with court?” The detective grinned at the thoughts of a foot long sub and a cup of coffee.

“Yes, I'm ready when you are.” Together the pair walked out of the justice building and toward the sub shop frequented by lawyers, clerks, police, as well as others.

Ray gave Fraser a ride back to the consulate. It wasn't really on his way back to the precinct, but he'd long since made a habit of driving the Canadian home. They'd had a leisurely lunch at the sub shop and caught up on precinct and consulate happenings. Neither of them would say so, but men are as bad for gossiping as women.

“Just let me get the correct change from my footlocker.” Fraser strode quickly toward his office/ home for the money to pay Ray back for his lunch. The shop owner steadfastly refused to accept the Mountie's Canadian currency.

“You owe me a dime, don't forget.” Ray loved to give his friend a hard time.

“There's one in the top desk drawer, see if you can find it won't you.” Fraser pointed to the desk as he dug in his father's footlocker. Ray flopped down in Fraser's chair and pulled the right drawer open. No dime. Next he pulled the left drawer open. Just a hole punch, stapler, and tape dispenser. Finally, Ray pulled out the middle drawer and began to search for the elusive dime.

 _“Hello, what's this?”_ Ray thought to himself as he pulled out the navy blue journal. He began flipping through the pages. The detective's quick eyes scanned the pages of long hand. Fraser's name popped up nearly every line.

 _“As we were standing on top of the runaway train, the wind whipping our faces, I stopped and turned to him. My heart pounded as I met his stare and saw the expectant, dizzying gaze he gives me every time we lock eyes.”_ Ray read aloud, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Fraser's head popped up over the edge of the desk like a pop tart in a toaster when he heard the first line.

 _“I wanted so badly to tell him what I've felt for so long that I stumbled over my words ….”_ Before Ray could say another word Fraser jerked the journal from his hands and snapped it closed.

“Why do you have Thatcher's journal in your desk drawer, Fraser?” The detective's eyes gleaned wickedly as he saw red, creeping blush rising up the Mountie's face all the way to his hair line.

“It fell out of her overnight bag when I pulled it from the top shelf of her closet the other day.” Fraser swallowed hard. He'd suspected the contents of Meg's journal but to actually hear it was a whole other matter. Hearing it made it real and real was potentially painful, for the both of them.

“If I looked through your footlocker, would I find a similar journal, Fraser?” Ray asked, still studying his friend.

“Perhaps,” Fraser rushed to think of an answer, “I intend to put the journal back on the shelf, where it belongs.”

“Uh huh, I see, you don't want Thatcher to know you've read her diary.” Ray crossed his arms over his chest, grinning as his friend squirmed awkwardly.

“No, I most definitely do not.” Fraser's answer popped out quickly. “I haven't read a single word.” He fumed, running his thumb nail over his brow.

“Your secret is safe with me, Benny.” Ray clapped the Canadian on the shoulder reassuringly.

“I didn't take the journal intentionally, Ray.” Ben defended, wishing he'd never laid eyes on it.

“What journal, Fraser.” Ray gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“Inspector Thatcher's journal, Ray.” Fraser said with deadpan seriousness.

“No, I'm just saying that if anyone asks, I'll say I never saw it, get it, Fraser?” Ray explained. He saw understanding dawn on the Mounties face.

“I get it now.” Fraser slipped the book under his pillow on the tightly made cot and handed the detective his lunch money.

“I've got to go, Fraser, Welsh will raise the roof if I don't hand in my reports.” They walked back to the front door together. Outside the church bells peeled three o'clock loudly.

“Good afternoon, Ray, I'll call you later.” Ben waved as he watched the emerald green Buick pull away from the consulate curb. He turned and walked back into the consulate, his mind pondering what other secrets Meg had written down in the journal. Ben had certainly gained a lot of insight into the lady Mountie since the accident. Still, he didn't begin to know her as well as he'd like. Ben suspected he'd have to be a mind reader to know Meg Thatcher as intimately as he wished he did.

_**Later that evening ….** _

“Meg, are you awake?” Fraser peeked into the bedroom after his knock went unanswered. He saw her rouse from beneath the fleece throw and run her fingers through her silky hair.

“Fraser, how did the arraignment go?” She asked, sitting up and pulling her bare feet beneath her.

“The young man was denied bail, he'd fled once before.” Fraser answered simply. He still wore his red serge.

“Has Mr. Larsen called yet, I was supposed to have talked to him the day after our lunch appointment.” Meg sounded bored, jumping at any chance to have something to do.

“Yes, I explained what happened, he sends his regards.” Fraser filled her in. “How was your day?” He pulled the desk chair out and sat across from her.

“I don't know if I can maintain my sanity staying cooped up like this.” She balled her hands into fists and tapped her knees.

“It will be over soon.” Fraser reached out and laid a reassuring hand on her fist.

“Time passes so slowly when there's nothing to occupy your mind.” She sighed. “At least when I have the flu or something I can read.”

“Perhaps I can read to you.” Ben offered generously. A few hours each evening in Fraser's company sounded good to Meg.

“Are you certain it isn't an imposition?” Meg played coy. It was hard not to let her excitement show through.

“I'll bring you a selection when I bring your supper tray.” Fraser thought about what few books he had on hand.

“Thank you, Fraser, you certainly have gone above and beyond the call of duty to accommodate me while I'm recovering.” Meg lowered her head, her fifteen minutes of being upright were over.

“It's my pleasure, Meg.” Ben's smile carried through to his voice. Spending a few hours in Meg's company didn't sound too bad to him either.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

 


	9. 9

_**Dinner ….**_

Fraser searched through the selection of books he kept on hand, his favorites. _Black Beauty_ by Anna Sewell caught his eye. He hoped that Meg wouldn't mind the children's classic, it was either that or _Don Quixote_ by Cervantes. Although a good story, it was a bit tedious at times. 

Ben slipped _Black Beauty_ into the back of his waistband and went back to the kitchen. He was also enjoying cooking for someone besides himself. He'd whipped up the previous night's beef stew from scratch. 

_“Can I have some?”_ Dief sniffed as he squeezed between Fraser's feet at the stove. He'd been smelling the chicken Parmesan for the last hour and a half. 

“You may have some of the chicken when it's finished cooking.” Ben answered. He'd put an extra chicken thigh in the pot for the wolf. Dief gave him an annoyed sniff and went to lay in the corner of the warm kitchen. 

“We'll have to delay our evening walk until after I've given Meg her eye drops, I've agreed to read to her this evening.” Fraser informed his old friend. 

_“If there's a mess on the carpet, remember, it was your idea to wait.”_ Dief shrugged and yawned. 

“I should let you out into the back yard for the evening.” Fraser reconsidered. 

_“Thought you'd see it my way.”_ Dief perked his ears up. 

Ben laid out two plates of chicken Parmesan with sweet peas, asparagus and mashed potatoes with brown gravy. One for Meg and one for himself. Two glasses of iced tea accompanied supper. Carefully, he carried the heavily laden tray upstairs, Dief trotting along behind. Meg had the door open before he could call out.

“How did you know I was outside the door?” He asked, surprised.

“I heard your boots on the stairs.” Meg smiled, proud to have helped out. 

“Ah, I understand.” Ben carried the tray over to the dresser and set it down while he pulled the TV tray out for them to share. 

“What smells so good?” Meg heard Ben moving around in the room so she stayed near the door, out of the way. He told her while he took her hand and led her to the bed. 

“What book did you bring?” Ben noted how eager she sounded and hoped again that she didn't mind his selection.

“ _Black Beauty_ by Anna Sewell, but I can find something else if you'd prefer.” He volunteered. 

“No, that's fine, I haven't read it since I was a young girl.” Meg gestured with her hand, turning over her iced tea. 

“Oh my, let me get that.” Fraser rushed to get the overturned glass before it drained completely out and drenched the carpet. He put both of their linen napkins on the spill at his feet. When he rose he found Meg seated on the bed, both her hands tucked beneath her. If Ben hadn't been there he was certain that she would have been crying from frustration. 

“I'll get another glass of iced tea, excuse me.” Ben left the room so that she could have a moment of privacy. When he returned Meg had begun eating. 

“I hope you don't mind, I started without you, it smells delicious.” The cheerful note in Meg's voice was forced and Ben could tell it, but graciously ignored it. Instead they made small talk about their favorite dishes. Meg nearly choked on her chicken when he described eating moose liver with onions. It didn't sound a bit appetizing.

After supper Ben took their dishes to the kitchen and came back ready to sit and read the tale of life from a horse's point of view. Meg had put on her pajama bottoms and settled down under the covers, her chin firmly planted between her collar bones. It felt as uncomfortable as it looked. She longed to lay her head back and roll her shoulders. 

“I'm ready when you are.” The lady Mountie folded her hands in her lap, her feet wiggling beneath the bedspread. Ben pulled the desk chair up to the side of the bed and cracked the spine on the well worn, hard back book. He took a deep breath before beginning. _“_ _The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it.”_

“Fraser, you can sit on the foot of the bed, it would be more comfortable.” Meg suggested when she heard him move restlessly in the chair for the fourth or fifth time during the second chapter. 

“No, I'm fine.” He paused to answer between paragraphs. 

“Fraser, the sound of that chair creaking tells me otherwise, go on, have a seat on the bed. I'm beneath the covers, you'll be alright.” Meg insisted, waving his protests away. 

Ben didn't know if he trusted himself that close to Meg, the way she smelled so sweet, or the memory of her striped toe nail polish. 

“Come on, Fraser, we're nearly through chapter two.” She patted the bed beside her. Ben caved. He got up from the chair and sat down at the foot of the bed opposite her. 

“That's better isn't it.” Meg stated confidently.

“Yes, it is.” Fraser yielded, trying to hide the pleasure he felt simply being near her. He continued reading, his voice fluid and melodic as he pronounced the words easily. Meg hung on every word of the classic tale. Ben suspected she would have agreed to any of his choice of books. He felt good that he could make her more comfortable. The Mountie wondered if things had been different, could they have made an honest go of a relationship. He knew he longed to hold more than her hand when she needed him. 

Before either of them knew where the time had gone, the church bells peeled out the first of ten chimes. Ben put a slip of paper into the book and closed it reluctantly. 

“Eye drop time.” Meg groaned, throwing back the comforter. 

“Yes, I'm afraid so.” Ben agreed, scooting off the edge of the bed to retrieve the offensive medication. Meg scooted down in the bed and leaned her head back against the headboard, waiting for Ben and his lightning fast method. He sat down on the side of the bed beside her, carefully drawing a dose into the plastic, suctioning stem. Meg winced after the first drop hit her eye. She dodged, getting the second drop on the side of her face. Her hands reached out, taking hold of Ben's knee as the cold, slimy drop settled into her eye.

“Eww, that was cold.” She shuddered, her small but warm hand resting on the leg of Ben's uniform pants. He froze, unsure of what to do. Part of him wanted her to leave her hand there. 

“The second drop was unsuccessful.” Ben said after a long pause. Meg noted the way his voice rose a fraction. Moving her hand, she realized where she'd put it. 

“Try it again, Fraser.” Meg withdrew her hand, instead taking a handful of the comforter while she tried to hold open her eyes. She could make out a very blurry hand above her face then the fat, wet drop hit her other eye. It made her shudder to her core. Meg wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand to get the excess medicine off her face. She felt Ben stand up, the mattress bouncing. 

“Here are some Kleenex.” He pressed them into Meg's free hand.

“Thank you, Fraser.” She dabbed gently at her eyes. They itched, watered, matted with dried eye drops and felt gritty most of the day. The only time Meg felt relief was when she was asleep. During the precious fifteen minutes of the hour she got to move her head normally, the lady Mountie had to do the things she couldn't otherwise, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, using the restroom, etc. It was draining.

“You're welcome, Meg.” He responded. 

“May I ask a personal question?” Meg said before Fraser could start toward the door. 

“Yes, certainly.” He said, leaning against the foot post of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. Meg couldn't see it but she'd seen him stand just that way often enough to picture it in her mind's eye. 

“I've asked you to call me by my first name, why haven't you extended me the same courtesy?” It wasn't as personal as Ben had anticipated. He felt relieved, but had no clue how to respond. How did he tell her that the sound of his name in her voice made him weak in the knees? 

“You can call me Ben or Benton, if you wish.” He tried to sound casual. The Mountie just hoped that it wasn't going to be an _'I want you to want to do it'_ , sort of thing. 

“Good night, Ben, thank you.” Meg tried the word out for the first time since pulling him in on her rouse with Cloutier. Ben saw the smile pulling up the corners of her perfectly formed lips. 

“Good night, Meg.” He walked the length of the bed, his first impulse was to lean down and kiss her good night. Instead, Ben turned on the bedside lamp.

“What's that for?” Meg asked, confused. Why turn on a lamp when she couldn't see anything. 

“Yes, quite right, you don't need a lamp just yet.” 

“It was considerate of you anyway.” Meg pulled the comforter up to her shoulders as she settled into bed. 

“Sleep well.” Ben wished her as he crossed to the door.

“You too, Ben.” Meg said his name with relish, making him smile. 

_**The Next Morning …** _

“Good morning, Canadian Consulate, Constable Turnbull speaking.” The junior Mountie answered the phone at eight the next morning with his usual, annoying exuberance. 

“This is Gunnar Larsen, is Constable Fraser available?” The Icelander asked politely. 

“One moment please.” Turnbull transferred him to Fraser's office. The currently ranking Mountie answered promptly.

“Constable Fraser, Gunnar Larsen here, I'm calling to see how Inspector Thatcher is doing.” The trade official cut straight to the point.

“Inspector Thatcher came through surgery quite well, she's currently recovering nicely.” Fraser kept it brief. He was certain that Meg wouldn't want Larsen to know she was staying at the consulate. 

“Is she well enough for a lunch appointment before I leave, I'd love to introduce my daughter, Viviana, to Inspector Thatcher. I'm trying to inspire her to be something besides a professional mall shopper.” Larsen chuckled at his own joke. 

“May I get back to you later today, Mr. Larsen, I'll have to consult Inspector Thatcher.” Ben began to smooth his brow with his thumbnail, his mind working overtime. 

“Yes, let me give you my cell phone number.” Larsen agreed easily. 

“Give Margaret my regards, Constable Fraser.” He said after rattling off his cell number for the Mountie. 

“I will, Mr. Larsen, have a good day.” They hung up and Ben took a long, exasperated breath. Meg was going to have a fit. 

_**Breaking the News ….** _

“A lunch appointment!” Meg said incredulously. Fraser could see the anxiety on her face despite the eye patches. She felt unprepared to meet Mr. Larsen and his daughter. Ben knew she felt hideous, what with her eyes covered, unable to present herself as she usually did.

“Should I call Mr. Larsen and cancel?” Fraser offered, willing to be the bad guy.

“No, no, Ottawa would frown on that.” Meg jumped, her mind spinning.

“Mr. Larsen will understand, you're recovering from surgery.” Ben offered, trying to make the best of a bad situation.

“He'll just have to won't he.” Meg shrugged, sitting back on the bed. “I'm afraid I'm not a very good example for his daughter just now.” She touched the strap of the eye patch carefully. Ben felt responsible all over again. He sat down on the bed beside her, quietly thinking. Meg laid her hand down, thumping him gently on the thigh just above his knee. She pulled her hand into her own lap when he jerked an instant later. Neither of them said anything.

“You're a fine example, Meg, you're very brave.” Ben said, taking her hand between both of his. Meg turned as if to look at him, still frowning. His hands felt warm and solid around hers. After a gentle squeeze, he released her hand and stood up again. 

“I suppose we could have a light brunch here at the consulate.” Meg supplied with a resigned sigh. 

“Yes, an excellent idea.” Ben stopped pacing and turned back toward Meg. 

“Day after tomorrow then?” Meg said confidently. If she was going to show herself at her most vulnerable, it might as well be the sooner than later. 

“I'll arrange a caterer.” Ben began making a mental list of things to do before the Larsens came for brunch. 

“Ben, this is going to work, isn't it?” It was the first time he'd heard Meg sound so unsure of herself. 

“I'll be there every step of the way.” Fraser gave in to his impulse and crossed the room to her. The Mountie touched Meg's cheek with the back of his hand. She turned her face up, surprised by his affectionate caress. 

“I'm confident you can do anything you set your mind to, Meg Thatcher.” Ben said softly, bending down to press a soft kiss against her forehead. 

_“Will wonders never cease.”_ Meg thought to herself when she felt Ben's kiss. She sat perfectly still, afraid to disrupt the perfect dream coming true. Before she could say anything, Ben had pulled away and started toward the door. 

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Ben closed the door softly behind him as he left the Princess Margaret Suite. Absently walking down the stairs, he found a broad smile on his face for no other reason than he'd kissed Meg. It had been an innocent, encouraging kiss, so why did he feel like he was flying? _He'd kissed Meg._ It wasn't the kind of kiss they'd shared on the runaway train roof, but it had been a kiss just the same. 

“Hello, Constable Fraser, how's the Inspector's recovery?” Turnbull asked when Fraser walked past the front desk. 

“She's recovering wonderfully.” Fraser answered, his mind finally returning to the consulate. He felt giddy.

_“I'm acting like a schoolboy, and at my age.”_ Ben thought to himself, shaking his head as he pulled out the consulate address book and called their usual caterer.

 _ **TYKTYKTYK**_


	10. 10

_**Princess Margaret Suite ….** _

Meg waited patiently for Ben to take the dinner dishes to the kitchen, eager to hear the next few chapters of _Black Beauty_. She'd settled down into bed, her mind still pondering his earlier kiss. Meg recollected how his thumb had danced over her cheek and how Ben had swept in and kissed her. She'd felt herself blushing long after he'd closed the door and left.

“Are you ready, Meg?” Ben's voice interrupted her musings.

“Yes, whenever you are, Ben.” She smiled, happy to use his name, happy to shed the formality between them for a change.

Ben perched on the side of the bed and picked up where he'd left off. Both of his feet were still on the floor, a self-imposed precaution. A part of him that the Mountie had only listened to once or twice wanted to crawl beneath the covers with Meg and pull her against his chest and hold her until her world was right again.

Meg listened as he read, sitting silently, absorbing Ben's every word. She let herself get lost in the sound of his musical, reverent tones as they wove the spell of the story across her imagination. It wasn't like the times Meg had called him out on the carpet to explain his behavior or a report, this was Ben wrapping himself in the shroud of fiction, swirling with the turn of every page. His voice conveyed the sadness and the joy of the story.

Ben stopped in mid-sentence when he heard the first of ten chimes signaling eye drop time. He finished the sentence before bookmarking the page. Meg sighed, wishing that the hours had passed more slowly. Her few hours with Ben were the highlight of her day.

“Let's get it over with.” Meg said as she rolled her shoulders to rid herself of the tension. She leaned her head back against the headboard.

“Has there been any change in your vision yet?” Ben asked as he rolled the medicine bottle between his hands to warm the liquid.

“Yes, there's beginning to be a noticeable change, but I still can't make out anything useful just yet.” Meg wished she could see Ben's face while she had her eye patches off. What she could see of him was glorious, yet blurry. Even blurry, Ben was handsome to her.

“Try to look back at the wall behind you, please.” Ben instructed. Meg frowned at him a moment, but did as she was asked. She rolled her eyes backward. Half a second later she felt the drops hit her eyes a microsecond apart. Jerking, Meg blinked rapidly, trying to get the drops to settle and not drain down her sinuses.

“Was that better than last time?” Ben asked, meaning the drops.

“Yes.” Meg answered, thinking to herself, _“No, last time you kissed me.”_

“I'll see you in the morning.” Ben set the book and eye drops on the dresser, turning to leave he heard,

“Ben, could you read a bit longer, I'm no where near sleepy.” Meg asked, hoping she wasn't imposing, but secretly wanting to spend more time with the Mountie in this informal setting.

“That is if you aren't too tired.” She rushed to offer. If only she could have seen him smile. Ben saw through her.

“That would be fine, I'm enjoying reading.” He said, actually saying in his own way that he was happy to keep Meg company.

“Thank you, Ben.” Meg smiled, her face turned in his direction.

“My pleasure, Meg.” He saw her wiggle her toes beneath the comforter. Ben sat back down on the bed after retrieving the book. Once again they dove into the story of one horse's life from his point of view. Meg hoped there would be time for a second book before she was officially well.

_**Midnight …** _

Meg heard the twelve church bells but didn't say anything. She knew it was getting late and that Ben woke up early every morning. Two hours of bliss had passed since he'd given her her eye drops. Two hours of listening to his steady, wonderful voice. Her heart sank when she heard Ben yawn.

“I've kept you awake far too long haven't I?” Meg said after he yawned a second time a moment later.

“I'm fine, we're almost finished with this chapter.” Ben tried to allay her concerns.

“You're indulging me, Ben, I know you're tired, you should get some rest before work tomorrow.” Meg insisted, her tone edging into Inspector mode.

 _“Yes, I am indulging you, that's what you do when you love someone.”_ Ben thought, surprising himself. _Love?_ That thought hadn't hit him in a while.

“Go on, get some rest.” Meg nudged his leg with her foot through the comforter, nodding her head toward the door. “I'll make it an order if you argue.” She said softly, teasing him. Gently, she felt him squeeze her ankle as he set his feet on the floor.

“You rest as well.” He still held her foot. “Good night.”

Meg waited silently, wondering what Ben's next move would be.

“See you in the morning.” Ben turned off the lamp on the nightstand as Meg scooted down into the bed. She caught his hand by the wrist, sitting back up. Without saying a word, she pressed his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles. Her spontaneity surprised even Meg.

“See you in the morning, Ben.” Meg released his hand and pulled herself back into the warm, comforter cocoon.

“Sleep well, Meg.” Ben said softly very near her ear.

“You too.” She answered into the darkness. A moment later the lady Mountie heard the door close and Ben's footsteps on the stairs.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Ben walked down stairs and out onto the back stoop to take a deep breath. He needed a lung full of fresh, night air to clear his mind and keep himself from going right back up those stairs and crawling into bed with Meg. Ben craved her touch, ached to smell her intoxicating, mysterious Meg scent and feel her against him.

“I've been single too long.” He told himself as he looked at the small circle of light cast by the security light in the miniscule back yard. Dief walked up to his human friend and sat down to stare at the city surrounding them.

 _“Still haven't taken control of her have you.”_ Dief looked up to say, his amber eyes looking ageless in the yellow light.

“That doesn't work with human females, they get upset about it.” Fraser shoved his hands into his pockets as he looked down at his furry friend. “Female wolves and women are two, entirely different species.”

 _“They're both mammals and both can be very vicious.”_ Dief countered, turning to stare into the night.

“And both absolutely endearing.” Ben said aloud with a smile.

 _“She's got you pinky wrapped as Ray would say.”_ Dief shook his head, rolling his amber eyes. That started a friendly bickering session between the two. Male bonding is bonding, despite the species difference.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

 


	11. 11

_**Day Five After Surgery ….** _

Meg woke up feeling wonderful, ready to meet the Larsens. The previous day she and Ben taken a trip to her apartment to get a few things. She hadn't packed a suit. The lady Mountie had found the one she wanted by feel. While she was there they cleaned out her refrigerator and took out the trash.

“Good morning, Meg.” Fraser called through the door at a quarter til six.

“It's unlocked, Ben.” Meg called back, feeling her way through the room to open the door. When she did, Ben breezed through the door with a tray of breakfast-pancakes. He set the tray on the folding tray at the foot of the bed. Meg sat down, enjoying the warm, buttery smell of still warm pancakes.

 _“I really am going to weigh a ton before I'm well.”_ Meg sighed and began feeling her way toward breakfast.

“May I eat with you this morning?” Ben asked, pulling up the desk chair.

“Yes, certainly, I'd love some company. I've been feeling like a leper eating all alone up here.” Meg found her fork and cut into the maple syrup drenched pancake goodness. She heard Ben doing the same across the folding table from her.

“I wasn't certain if you'd like coffee or milk, so I brought both.” Ben had pondered which to bring until he realized that pondering was keeping him away from Meg.

“These are delicious, Ben, I haven't had pancakes since I've been in Chicago.” Meg ate slowly, savoring the fattening awesomeness of maple syrup and bacon.

“I'm glad you like them.” The Mountie watched her eat, glad to see her happy.

“Have you finalized the plans for brunch?” Meg got back to business.

“Yes, the caterers are arriving at eight and the florists at nine.” Ben slipped into Mountie mode.

“Good, what are the travel arrangements?” Meg paused between bites.

“Turnbull is picking the Larsens at their hotel.” The Mountie answered.

“I should enjoy this while I can, I probably won't be eating lunch.” Meg took another bite of her second pancake. They talked a bit more about the brunch as they ate. When they were finished, Meg leaned against the post, happily full. Ben gathered the dishes and stacked them on the tray.

“You have something on your chin.” Ben said, wondering how to get the maple syrup off.

“This is why I dread this brunch.” Meg wiped her face with a napkin, but the syrup stayed put.

“Here, let me.” Ben took the napkin and dipped it in milk to dislodge the sticky, sugary syrup.

“Please tell me you didn't lick the napkin, Ben.” Meg said mildly disgusted.

“No, it was milk.” Ben answered, laying the napkin back on the tray.

“Oh, good.” Although Meg didn't see what difference it would be after she'd kissed him. She guessed it was the thoughts of it more than the reality.

“I guess I should start getting ready, it'll take a while.” Meg stretched her arms above her head, her pajama sleeve balled into her fist. Ben nearly dropped the tray of dishes when he saw that sliver of skin near her navel and the dark birthmark to the left. He swallowed hard and gripped the wooden tray tightly.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Ben turned and left the bedroom, his mind hazy. He took his sweet time walking down the back steps into the kitchen. When he arrived he met Constable Turnbull pouring himself a cup of coffee before clocking in for the day.

“Good morning, Constable Fraser, how is Inspector Thatcher this morning?” The junior Mountie asked with a bright smile.

“Doing well, good morning.” Fraser set the tray on the counter top and set them into the stainless steel sink. He watched an early breeze rifle through the trees out the kitchen sink.

“I see you and the Inspector are taking meals together during her recovery.” Turnbull ventured. Ben paused, his mind blank as to how to respond. He couldn't very well deny it, what with two sets of breakfast dishes in hand.

“Yes, to strategize about brunch later this morning.” Fraser answered, drying his hands extra thoroughly on a dish towel. Had he been looking at Turnbull he would have seen a mischievous twinkle in his laughing blue eyes.

“Have you spread the table cloth in the dining room, Constable?” Ben tried to remember his to-do list.

“I'll have to iron it first, Sir, then I'll polish the silver.” Turnbull took a sip of his coffee. He silently chided himself for saying anything.

“Good, Constable Turnbull.” Fraser dismissed him, his mind preoccupied with the coming days' chores.

 _ **The Larsens Arrive …**_.

Viviana Larsen was a lovely young woman who could have graced any magazine cover. There in laid her problem, she knew it. Her long, naturally blonde hair and size two figure garnered her attention, both good and bad, good she thought, bad her father insisted. He wanted his daughter to do more with her life than bouncing from man to man, depending on them for her self esteem and income. He wanted Viviana to be more like Inspector Margaret Thatcher, confident, self possessed, graceful, smart and independent. That's why Gunnar Larsen had arranged for the brunch.

“Welcome to the Canadian Consulate, Mr. Larsen, Miss Larsen.” Fraser greeted them at the front door.

“Constable Fraser, this is my daughter, Viviana.” Mr. Larsen introduced them with a big smile.

“Hello, Constable Fraser.” Viviana politely shook hands with Ben. The Mountie wondered how she managed to stay warm in her leather mini skirt and sleeveless blouse. Her waist length hair floated around her in a mass of luxurious curls.

“Inspector Thatcher is waiting for us in the dining room, right this way.” Fraser ushered them toward the the back of the consulate. He could tell that Viviana wasn't happy to be there but she wasn't being a brat about it. The Mountie had seen the way the young woman had cast furtive glances toward Turnbull, inspecting him from every angle. Ben was glad that he wasn't the object of adoration for a change.

Meg sat waiting in the dining room for the Larsens to arrive. She'd asked Fraser twice if she looked alright in her navy pants suit and maroon blouse. She'd went so far as to ask him if her trouser socks matched each other. Ben had gently squeezed her shoulder and told her she looked lovely. Meg knew he wouldn't have told her that if it weren't true. With that, she'd let him lead her to the dining room. Now she sat patiently at the table, her chin plastered to her chest.

“Inspector Thatcher, I'm happy to see you're recovering so quickly.” Mr. Larsen came through the sliding doors first.

“Mr. Larsen, hello. I'm sorry that I couldn't finish our discussion from lunch last week.” Meg raised her head slowly, putting her hand out for him to shake.

“I completely understand. I'm given to understand that you were instrumental in apprehending the thief that held up the restaurant where we had just eaten.” Larsen said for his daughter's benefit.

“Yes, but I simply assisted Constable Fraser, he's the one who captured the thief.” Meg's face warmed. She turned to her left, where she knew he'd planed to sit beside her.

“Inspector, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Viviana, I thought she might learn something from meeting you and Constable Fraser.” Larsen nudged his daughter toward Meg's outstretched hand.

“Hello, Inspector Thatcher.” Meg nodded as she shook the long, tapered hand momentarily. “My father has told me of the work you do here in Chicago.” Viviana's voice was soft and accented.

“Here, allow me.” Ben spoke, pulling out a chair for Viviana. Gunnar Larsen had already taken a seat across from Meg at the dining room table set for four. Fraser sat down beside his superior officer, ready to help should she need anything.

“Were you injured when you were chasing the thief, Inspector?” Viviana sounded sincerely concerned.

“Yes, I was, my first injury in the line of duty.” Meg's fingers touched the strap of her eye patches. _“Unless paper cuts count.”_ She amended to herself. A waiter in black slacks and a starched, white shirt beneath a Canadian red vest served the four guests miniature cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, with crisp bacon and fresh fruit salad. Another waiter served coffee. Viviana served herself from the orange juice pitcher sitting on the table.

“Chicago is your first international posting isn't it, Inspector?” Mr. Larsen asked, trying to guide the conversation.

“Yes, so far. The RCMP has given me some wonderful opportunities to meet people from all over the world, to experience different cultures and assist my fellow country men during my career so far.” Meg's voice was full of pride. Ben sat still, listening intently. She took on a glow as she talked about some of the people she'd met during her career. Ben noticed that Viviana was listening intently as well.

“What about your family, Inspector Thatcher?” Viviana pushed her eggs around and took a bite of a mini cinnamon roll. Ben waited to hear her answer to this question. He didn't know much about Thatcher's family and suspected her parents were both passed away.

“My family is in Ottawa, I don't get to see them as often as I'd wish to.” Meg said simply, holding her professional mask firmly in place. Ben watched Viviana for a moment, seeing her hesitation. Had the Mountie been a betting man, he would have won the bet that see was going to ask Meg if she were married or hoped to be soon.

“Are you in Chicago alone or do you have a boyfriend?” Bingo, bet won. Viviana toyed with her orange juice, watching Meg expectantly. The Inspector took a sip of coffee, hiding behind her cup.

“I'm currently devoted to my work, but I have other interests to keep me busy.” Meg gave a Mona Lisa smile. Underneath the table she found Ben's knee and tapped her fist against it lightly. Gunnar Larsen saw the way Ben's eyes widened and the faint tinge of pink rising up his neck.

The conversation progressed to other things; politics, Chicago's sights and attractions, before finally turning to school. Meg was in the process of telling them about her college literature professor and his unorthodox style of reading to his students in one of the five languages he spoke fluently. She gestured expansively with her hands, sending her orange juice flooding across Ben's plate. It shattered on impact with the gold rimmed china.

“Oh dear.” Ben pushed back his chair, laying his linen napkin on the table.

“How clumsy of me.” Meg pushed her chair back as well, right into a waiter, sending him and the coffee he carried sprawling. Ben and Mr. Larsen rushed to help the poor waiter back on his feet. Meg pulled her chair back up to the table and put her hands in her lap, out of the way. She sat perfectly still as another waiter and Ben cleaned up the mess.

“Is that blood?” Viviana asked, pointing to the shattered glass.

“Inspector, did you cut yourself when you hit the glass?” Ben asked, trying to see her hands in her lap.

“I thought it was orange juice.” Meg raised her hands to show a small cut on the outer edge of her knuckle.

“Let me take care of that, Inspector.” Fraser pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and hastily wrapped her hand.

“Excuse us, Mr. Larsen, Miss Larsen.” The Mountie guided Meg into the kitchen. Carefully, he situated her on a stool and retrieved the first aid kit from the cabinet over the refrigerator.

_**TYKTYK** _

Viviana watched through the swinging door as the Mountie slipped Thatcher up on a bar stool, his brows knit in concern. Their head were barely inches apart as he examined her hand. She wondered if they were going to kiss, they made such a cute couple. Viviana had seen the way Fraser watched Meg's every move while they ate. He seemed proud of her when she'd asked about Meg's eyes. Viviana saw that he was obviously sweet on the Inspector. It made her smile.

_**TYKTYK** _

“Well, I've made a wonderful impression for Mr. Larsen's daughter, how to be a blind klutz.” Meg grumbled as Ben used a wet dishtowel to staunch the bleeding. He told her to hold it while he found the antibiotic ointment and band-aids.

“Nonsense, it was an accident, it could have happened to anyone of us at the table.” Ben dabbed on the ointment before gently smoothing a band-aid over the small cut.

“I should never have agreed to have brunch this morning, it's too soon.” Meg tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand. “That poor waiter will have bruises.” She put her hand to her thundering head. “Ben will you make my excuses to Mr. Larsen, tell him I've got a headache?”

“I will, I'm certain he understands it was an accident.” Ben wanted to make her feel better but didn't know how.

“It doesn't feel like an accident, it feels like a failure.” Meg's voice cracked before she could hide it. “Take me to the stairs and I'll go on up alone.” Ben guided her to the back stair case and watched as she began walking slowly. After a deep breath, he returned to the dining room.

“Is Inspector Thatcher alright?” Viviana asked, her blue eyes wide.

“Yes, she's fine. She asked me to give you her regards, she has a headache.” Fraser saw the Larsens exchange a knowing glance.

“We must be on our way anyway, our flight leaves this evening and there are things to be done before we travel. Tell Inspector Thatcher that we wish her the best and a quick recovery.” Mr. Larsen stood up to leave, a broad smile on his face. Fraser followed them toward the front door. Viviana hung back, chewing on her bottom lip, her pale blue eyes cloudy.

“Constable Fraser, you seem like the kind of man who cares for everyone, but you especially care for Inspector Thatcher, don't you.” The young woman hung back as her father walked out on the front stoop.

“Inspector Thatcher and myself have a solid, working relationship.” Ben began.

“Constable, I saw your face when she knocked over the orange juice glass. I just wanted to say that I hope to find someone to care about as much as you seem to care for each other. I like the Inspector, she gave me a lot to think about.” Viviana gave him a megawatt smile.

“Inspector Thatcher will be happy to hear that, thank you kindly, Miss Larsen.” Ben held the door open for her. Mr. Larsen and Constable Turnbull waited for her at the foot of the stoop.

“One last question, Constable Fraser,” Viviana turned her back to her father who rolled his eyes and sighed, tired of his daughter's antics.

“Yes?” Fraser held his hands behind his back.

“Is Constable Turnbull dating anyone?” She giggled and Turnbull's face went up in a blushing flame. Ben looked down at his boots for a moment.

“No, not that I'm aware of, Miss Larsen.” He answered honestly. Women just weren't something that he and the junior Mountie discussed. Regulations, leather polish, moose recipes, hockey and curling, yes, but they'd never talked about the women in their lives.

“Thank you, Constable, please tell Inspector Thatcher good-bye for me.” Viviana waved as she walked down the handful of steps toward the waiting Lincoln.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Meg pulled off her suit jacket, kicked off her block heeled loafers and laid down on the bed. She felt like a bull in a china shop. To her way of thinking the brunch had been a disaster. Not only had she drowned Ben's lap but she'd embarrassed herself in front of the Larsens and knocked over an innocent waiter. Meg felt like resigning from the Force, she was so frustrated feeling. She just wanted to scream.

Lying on her stomach, the lady Mountie fell asleep after a while. She didn't hear Ben's tap on the door or him peeking in to see if she was alright. He stepped in and gently laid a fleece throw over her and turned off the overhead light.

_**Supper ….** _

“Meg, I've prepared a plate for you.” Ben knocked on the bedroom door later. He'd given her a wide berth since brunch, hoping some time alone would help.

“I'm not hungry, thank you.” She called from inside. Meg knew that Fraser had checked on her at least twice during the afternoon. His footsteps were different from Turnbull's.

“You have to keep your strength up.” Ben stood outside, his hand on the door.

“I'm not hungry, Ben, please go.” Meg said with as much restraint as she could muster. She felt grumpy and sullen.

“May I come in?” He persisted in his best persuasive tone.

“No, I just want to be alone.” Meg growled. She was shocked to hear the door open anyway.

“Viviana Larsen said you'd given her a lot to think about this morning, she seems to have taken a liking to you.” Ben pulled up the desk chair opposite Meg. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him.

 _“He's taken leave of his sense.”_ She thought, still feeling grouchy.

“Ben, what part of 'I want to be alone', was unclear?” Meg's husky voice demanded.

“Miss Larsen also said that she hoped to find someone to care about as much as we care for each other.” Ben revealed, watching her reaction carefully. It was his left handed way of saying he cared about her too much to leave her alone. Meg's mouth dropped open in surprise. She thought back to brunch and couldn't think of anything that would have given her feelings away.

“She's, I, we, you,” Meg strung together a line of pronouns as her mind spun.

“Miss Larsen was completely correct, we do care for each other.” Ben stated firmly.

“I know we do.” She finally came up with a coherent sentence.

“Then let me be here for you now, Meg.” Ben took her both hands in his and pressed a kiss to her palm. His touch sent sparks flying through her blood and melted her resolve. Ben moved from the desk chair to sit beside her. Meg felt him put his arm around her, then he leaned her head to rest on his shoulder. He felt her relax against his side.

“What if this is permanent, Ben, what if I have to leave the RCMP? Are you going to take care of me then as well?” She released a shuddering breath.

“We'll meet the challenges that come together.” He responded.

“I'm not holding my breath.” She pressed her cheek into his collar bone.

“What are you wearing, this isn't your tunic is it.” Meg pulled away and ran her hand up his arm, feeling the soft material of his t-shirt.

“No, I'm off duty.” He answered, as Meg's fingers found his face. He closed his eyes as her fingertips tenderly explored his face. The next thing Ben knew, she was pulling him down into a kiss. His first instinct was to pull away, to put some distance between them. Where would they take this new found relationship after Meg was well? Would history repeat itself?

“I've made a mistake, haven't I?” Meg pulled back before their lips met. She felt his hesitation.

“No, I'm afraid I've made the mistake.” Ben kicked himself as he pulled away.

“The train?” Meg said, knowing why he'd been so hesitant.

“Yes.” He admitted.

“I wouldn't trust me either, if the shoe were on the other foot.” Meg ran her fingers through her silky, shoulder length hair. She could have kicked herself for ever telling Ben to forget the best kiss of her life.

“What happened on the train wasn't a mistake, Meg. What happened afterward gives me reason to pause.” Ben explained, still not certain that he understood his reasoning himself. Most men would have been happy to oblige Meg with a kiss, despite their past. To most men though, a kiss didn't mean what it meant to Benton Fraser.

“I understand, Ben, I do.” Meg pulled away. She wasn't angry or upset, just sad.

 _“That makes one of us.”_ The Mountie thought, tugging on his ear, annoyed at himself. “I do care for you.” Ben said finally, taking Meg's hand between both of his. He ached to kiss her, but he knew the pain of separation would be worse if things didn't work out.

“I know you do, Ben, why else would you be here?” Meg said simply. He snaked his arm around her once again and leaned her head against his shoulder. Both of them were lost in their own thoughts for a while.

Ten bells chimed outside before either of them moved. Meg didn't rouse until the last chime had died. With a sigh, she pulled away. Ben still held her hand. When he let go she felt the cool air against her skin and the feeling that she was losing him. That made her heart skip a beat. He'd said he'd take care of her, trusting that was a leap of faith for the lady Mountie. Leaps of faith weren't her specialty.

“Lean back and look at the head board.” Ben instructed as he retrieved the vile drops. Silently, Meg did as he said, sad to see him leave but knowing it was inevitable. Two drops hit almost simultaneously, one in each eye. Meg shuddered when they began to settle.

“I'll see you in the morning, Meg.” Ben watched as she took a drink of the water she kept on the nightstand.

“I'll be here.” She forced a smile. Meg didn't hear him cross the room and kneel down. She felt him press a kiss against her forehead.

“Pleasant dreams, Meg Thatcher.” His voice was husky, just shy of cracking.

“You too, Benton Fraser.” Meg hated hearing him sound so sad. She knew it was her fault. Quickly, Ben got up and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. It had been a long day for the both of them.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

 


	12. 12

_**Day Six After Surgery ….** _

Ben's head hadn't cleared any since the night before. He still felt confused about his reaction to Meg's attempted kiss. He'd put his body on the line before, his reputation and his very life. Why couldn't he put his heart on the line?

 _“Once bitten twice shy.”_ Dief reminded him as he trotted up the stairs beside him toward the Princess Margaret Suite.

“Quite true.” Ben agreed and steeled himself to meet Meg.

“Good morning, Meg.” The Mountie said after tapping on the door loudly.

“Just a minute, Fraser.” He winced at the formality in her voice. It was to be expected he supposed, but that didn't make it feel any better. The door opened slowly as Meg backed up a few steps. She wore his t-shirt and sweatpants, her hair messy and her bare feet.

 _“See you later, old friend.”_ Dief turned and walked back to his bed in the warm corner of Fraser's home/office.

“I've prepared oatmeal for us.” Ben set the tray on the folding table and retrieved the desk chair.

“I smell cinnamon, butter, sugar, and coffee.” Meg lifted her chin and sniffed the air.

“Yes, quite right.” He watched Meg feel her way along the wall toward her seat on the bed. He knew he could guide her but decided she was also capable of doing it for herself and would probably prefer to. Ben took his seat, first setting the bowls of oatmeal out and positioning Meg's coffee within easy reach. She found it first and took a long, grateful drink.

“You always remember how I take my coffee, thank you.” She smiled in Ben's direction.

“It's my pleasure, you're welcome.” Ben said, trying to judge her mood. So far it had been cool yet personable.

“When is my next follow up appointment with Dr. Brown?” Meg asked out of the blue.

“Day after tomorrow at nine o'clock.” Ben answered, adding a few ounces of milk to his hot oatmeal. He hated trying to make small talk when they'd been so close the night before.

“I'll be relieved when I can take these patches off for good.” Meg adjusted one of the straps.

 _“What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The hearts bleed longest, and but heal to wear, That which disfigured it._ Said Byron in his work Childe Harold.” Fraser recited.

“That sounds bittersweet.” Meg laid her spoon back in her bowl, thinking how well it fit them.

“It is. We all have scars.” Ben agreed, taking up his coffee cup.

“Are we ever going to have a normal conversation, Ben?” Meg said as if it were a question about pencil erasers instead of a matter of the heart.

“That would depend on your definition of normal.” The Mountie answered.

“A conversation without this awkwardness between us.” Meg defined easily. They'd come so far already, getting past their ranks and regulations.

“It will take time.”

Meg didn't know if she had the time, she still feared never seeing Fraser's face again. Ben saw the thoughts moving across her mind; the fear and worry. She noticed the silence lapsing between them and began asking about the consulate's day to day business.

_**Day Eight After Surgery …...** _

It had been an odd few days between the Mounties as they tried to let the awkwardness between them die down. Ben had read _Black Beauty_ until ten each night then gave Meg her eye drops. With each day the lady Mountie saw just a bit clearer when she took her eye patches off for the drops. Light was painful to her eyes but the sight of Fraser standing over her made it worth it.

Ben and Meg arrived at Dr. Brown's office at eight-thirty, a full half hour before her appointment. The receptionist smiled broadly when she saw the dashing Mountie leading Meg, her arm tucked safely against his side.

“Hello, I see you've got the same handsome escort this morning.” The older woman said, just to see the pair squirm.

“I need to register, Inspector Margaret Thatcher.” Meg pursed her lips and tried not to snap at the woman baiting her.

“Alright, have a seat and they'll call you when he's ready, dear.” The receptionist pointed them to a group of chairs across the large room from her desk. It contained the usual potted plant and selection of months old magazines.

“Why couldn't you have worn civilian clothes?” Meg fussed, muttering under her breath.

“There wasn't sufficient time to change, I was on duty until shortly before we left the consulate.” Ben answered matter-of-factly. Meg turned to him, her lips pursed and an eye brow raised, but didn't say anything.

“Ms. Thatcher.” A nurse called from the doorway leading to the exam rooms. Meg stood up and waited for Ben to guide her. She felt him take her arm and they proceeded down the hallway.

“Ms. Thatcher, hello, how are you this morning?” Dr. Brown greeted her. He was obviously a morning person.

“I'll know how I am as soon as you tell me how my eyes are doing.” Meg tried to sound happy but it came out as slightly fearful anyway.

“Okay, let's get started, shall we.” The doctor took up his seat behind the equipment he used to see the various aspects of the human eye. Meg patiently followed his directions, looking left, right, up, down and following his finger. The nurse had already filled her eyes with drops and the exam was making Meg a nervous wreck.

“Alright, well, you're healing up nicely, the retina are lying as flat as possible and there were no complications, so as soon as those gas bubbles dissipate, you'll be ready to go back to work.” Dr. Brown sounded pleased with the prognosis.

“Will there be any loss in vision?” Ben asked, his voice more serious than usual. He'd been wondering about that Meg's entire recovery so far.

“Only time will tell, but I'm optimistic that there will be a full recovery.” Dr. Brown answered truthfully.

“How much longer will it take the nitrous oxide bubbles to dissolve?” Meg wondered, addressing first things first.

“They're almost seventy-five percent dissipated so far. Hopefully another two weeks and they'll be completely gone.” Meg felt relieved, she wanted this over as soon as possible. She wanted to get back to her life, at least partially. The lady Mountie had enjoyed her time with Ben, having him take care of her and the lack of formality between them. She'd put an end to that two days ago though and now he was back to his usual, formal self. Meg hated that and she knew it was her fault to begin with.

“Is there anyway to speed up the dissolution?” Meg asked, hopeful.

“No, I'm afraid not, the bubbles are there to assist the retina while they heal. The longer they remain behind the eye, the less likely a wrinkle will appear.” Dr. Brown explained patiently, “The retina is like wallpaper, it needs to be flat and without wrinkles or bubbles. A wrinkle can cause double or distorted vision.” He'd explained this so many times through out his career he'd worked up a spiel.

“I understand.” Meg sighed, a little less nervous. She couldn't yet tell if there was a wrinkle or not.

“If you have any questions let me know, if not I'll see you in two weeks.” Dr. Brown stood up and flipped on the lights while Meg adjusted her eye patches.

“Thank you kindly, Dr. Brown.” Ben shook his hand before the whipcord of a man left the exam room.

“Yes, thank you.” Meg reached out for Ben's hand only to feel air. Groping, she came up with his tunic tail near the back. She felt him jerk away suddenly.

“Oh dear, sorry, Constable Fraser.” Meg pulled her hand away. She hadn't meant to take a hold of his tush.

“No need for embarrassment, your reason was genuine.” He took her hand and helped her get her feet past the foot rest of the exam chair.

“You've had that happen before?” Meg questioned, a mix of jealousy and shock coursing through her. She'd never thought of it from his point of view, or even that he'd been harassed. It struck her as odd that they had something like this in common.

“On occasion, yes.” Ben answered, wishing it didn't happen so regularly. Meg didn't know what to say, it wasn't like it hadn't crossed her mind. She still thought it was a a tacky thing to do. She'd been on the receiving end of the same behavior a few times throughout her career.

“I am sorry, Ben. It was an honest mistake.” Meg felt genuinely apologetic.

“I know, it's good to know that your attraction to me has a deeper source.” He spoke very near her ear so as not to be overheard.

“I hope that I'm still attracted when we're both old and wrinkled.” Meg responded, slowly matching Ben's pace down the hall to the receptionist.

“ _Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale/ Her infinite variety_. Shakespeare said in Antony and Cleopatra, act two.” Fraser quoted, squeezing Meg's hand as they cleared the doorway.

“That fits you better than it fits me.” Meg shook her head, smiling.

“Dr. Brown said to follow-up in two weeks.” Ben told the receptionist, who'd been listening to them the entire walk down the hallway. They seemed to be content in their own little world.

“Alright, we have an eight o'clock, ten and eleven-fifteen.” The receptionist gave them options for their appointment day.

“Eight o'clock.” The Mounties spoke in unison. The dimple cheeked receptionist smiled, looking from one to the other.

“Eight it is then.” She wrote the time and date on a business card and handed it to Fraser. “Have a good day.” She wished them, watching the pair leave the waiting room.

_**Back at the Consulate ….** _

Turnbull whistled as he dusted the chandelier in the dining room, standing on a short ladder. He wore a black, chef's apron, a cleaning rag in his pocket and a can of lemon Pledge sitting on the table.

“Constable Turnbull, have there been any calls while I was out?” Fraser eased into the dining room from the kitchen entrance after having escorted Meg to her temporary home.

“No calls, but there is a letter for the Inspector, from Miss Larsen.” The junior officer smiled, thinking of the note he'd received from her as well. “I laid all the correspondence on your desk, Constable Fraser.”

“Thank you kindly, Turnbull, as you were.” Fraser exited the dining room through the second doorway and proceeded to his home/office. Dief raised his head when he saw his human friend enter the room. He seemed happy.

“Hello, Diefenbaker.” Fraser sorted through the mail, taking the card from the back addressed to the Inspector.

 _“Feeling better?”_ The old wolf seemed to ask, stretching and yawning as he laid in the warm sunshine streaming in through the window.

“Yes, thank you for asking.” Fraser answered, off again to take the card upstairs.

Upstairs Meg heard Ben's tap at the door and wondered why he was coming to see her so soon. She opened the door, glad to have a reason to move around.

“Miss Larsen sent a card for you, shall I open it?” Ben asked, stepping into the bed room.

“Yes, of course.” Meg laid her hand on his shoulder to let him walk her across the room. Sitting down on the bed, she felt him sit down as well. At least he wasn't putting so much distance between them.

“It is a thank you card, it says, _“Dear Inspector Thatcher and Constable Fraser, thank you for brunch at the consulate. Father and I enjoyed our visit to Chicago and hope to visit again in the future. Signed Viviana Larsen. Post Script; Best wishes for a quick recovery and to a long and wonderful relationship. V.L.””_ Ben read the last part slowly.

“She's a sweet girl, but clueless.” Meg said dryly.

“Is she?” Ben retorted. He'd been the one to hesitate but he wasn't ready to deny the feelings he'd been conflicted with either. “How so?” Ben asked, thinking back to brunch a few days before.

“I don't know, neither of us gave any indication of anything more than mutual respect and a working relationship.” Meg sounded vague. She still didn't know what Viviana Larsen had seen to think she and Ben were even thinking of dating.

“My grandmother taught me that in any relationship, whether it was a marriage or a friendship, respect is essential. Perhaps Miss Larsen has sufficient perspective to see us in a way that neither of us is capable of just now.” Ben suggested.

“You respect me, do you trust me?” Meg asked, curious.

“Yes.” Ben answered without hesitation.

“Why, I've given you reason not to.” The lady Mountie's reference to the train wasn't lost on Ben. Meg promised herself, and Ben, that she wouldn't do that again.

“I trust you because you trust me.” He answered simply.

“What if I mess up, Ben?” Meg spoke low. He sounded so much more certain than she felt.

“No one is perfect.” He reminded her.

“Oh, but some are closer than others.” Meg leaned against him, nudging him with her elbow. She drank in the sound of his gentle laugh.

“Some of you are closer than others.” Ben took her hand and kissed her palm tenderly. Meg smiled, it was rare that he teased her, or anyone really.

 _“Why couldn't we have met sooner?”_ Meg wondered to herself, leaning her head against Ben's shoulder. She couldn't believe he was real, or sitting there with his arm around her shoulders. It was the perfect, quiet moment Meg had only dreamed of until then.

“I should see to lunch.” Ben said, his voice low as he squeezed her gently.

“Thank you, Ben.” Meg gave him a bright smile. Each thank you was her way of saying, 'I love you'.

_**TYKTYK** _

_**Day Twenty After Surgery ….** _

Meg had been cooped up in the Princess Margaret Suite for just about as long as she could retain her sanity. It had been four business weeks since she'd been in her office. After breakfast she dressed in what she hoped was her favorite pair of khaki slacks and a cobalt blue blouse and her black loafers and marched down the stairs to her office.

“Inspector Thatcher, how may I help you?” Constable Turnbull's voice greeted her at the foot of the stairs. Meg smelled sugar cookies baking, their scent drifting through the consulate.

“It's time to get back to work, Turnbull, assist me into my desk.” Meg said stoutly, feeling more nervous than she'd actually admit.

“Yes, Sir, right away.” The junior Mountie laid her hand on his shoulder and proceeded to guide her into her office.

“Me- ah, Inspector Thatcher.” Ben's voice sounded astonished as she walked up to the desk.

“Constable Fraser, it's time that I got back to work, somehow.” Meg stood firm, her voice daring him to say something to the contrary.

“How would you proceed, Sir?” Ben asked after a long pause.

“Well, Constable, I can still answer the phone.” Meg began thinking she hadn't had such a great idea after all. She couldn't write, read or do anything requiring sight, yet.

“Ah, yes, please, have a seat.” Fraser stood up when Meg entered. Then he positioned the desk chair for her behind her desk.

“Thank you kindly, Constable Fraser. Now, I'll need a legal pad and an ink pen.” Meg took charge as she sat down behind her desk for the first time in twenty days.

“As you wish, Inspector.” Fraser took a pen out of the cup on the desk and handed it to her. Turnbull found a legal pad in his desk in the entrance and brought it back.

“Would you like for one of us to stay in here with you, Sir?” Fraser asked, hoping she'd say yes.

“Yes, Constable Fraser, I'll need someone to use as a runner.” Meg felt better having something to do, even if it was answering the phone. She couldn't sit in the Princess Margaret Suite listening to day time television or the radio one more minute.

“I'd be more than happy to assist in any way, Inspector.” Turnbull offered cheerfully.

“Is there something baking in the kitchen, Turnbull?” Meg asked.

“Ah, yes, I have sugar cookies and a honey glazed, spiral cut ham in the oven.” Turnbull answered. Meg could see him wringing and twisting to be dismissed.

“Well, don't burn down the consulate, Constable Turnbull, see to your ham and cookies.” Meg shooed him out the door with an exasperated shake of her head.

“Him, I didn't miss.” Meg said after she heard the door close behind the junior Mountie.

“Constable Turnbull is still young and eager to please.” Fraser said in his subordinate's defense.

“If you say so, Fraser, my verdict is still out.” Meg gave him a withering expression. Fraser sat down across from her when the phone rang.

“Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking.” She answered almost before the first ring finished. She listened intently to the other end of the line for a long moment, her face growing serious. Fraser leaned forward, wondering who was on the other end and what they were saying.

“Yes, Sir, I understand, I'll send my medical files first thing tomorrow morning.” Meg said blandly, her voice cool and professional. “Good day, Sir.” She hung up the phone, her face pale.

“Our superiors in Ottawa want to access my fitness for duty, they want my medical files, pronto.” She sat back against the chair, doubts and fears swirling. “This could be the end of my career, Ben.” Meg spoke just above a whisper. It suddenly felt cold in the office she had been so eager to get to only minutes before.

“Shall we leave for Dr. Brown's office now?” Ben stood up, anxious to get her files sent and get through this.

“Yes, the sooner the better I suppose.” Meg frowned, trying to put on a brave front.

“Shall I retrieve your coat?” Ben offered, trying to figure out a way to make her feel better.

“Thank you, yes, I'll wait here.” The lady Mountie's voice was hollow. Fraser hurried upstairs and pulled Meg's navy pea coat out of her closet and grabbed her purse hanging on an over the door hook. He swung by his office and grabbed his Stetson and coat as well.

“Constable Turnbull, the Inspector and I will be out for a few hours, man the consulate for us.” Fraser said before the junior Mountie could get a question out. Ben just kept walking toward Meg's office.

“Allow me to call a cab for you, Sir.” Turnbull rushed to his desk in the entrance.

“Thank you kindly, Turnbull.” Fraser nodded before disappearing into the Inspector's office.

“Here you go.” Meg felt Ben lay her coat on her shoulders. She slipped her arms in the sleeves and fumbled with the buttons.

“May I?” Ben asked, laying a hand on her arm. Meg frowned and turned loose of her buttons. Quickly, Ben re-buttoned her coat and hung her purse on her arm.

“Turnbull's called a cab, we should arrive at Dr. Brown's office in half an hour or so, depending on traffic.” Ben estimated, taking Meg's hand and tucking her arm next to his side.

“We should get the police report and my file at the emergency room as well.” Meg thought, trying not to cry and focused.

“Good idea.” Ben began leading the way, Meg following his long stride easily.

“There should be a cab arriving promptly, Sir.” Turnbull informed them as they cleared the office door.

“Thank you, Turnbull, carry on.” Meg nodded, her chin firmly planted against her chest.

By the time Ben lead Meg down the consulate's front stoop and onto the side walk, a Gemini cab pulled up to the curb. The gray conveyance waited as the Canadians situated themselves before pulling into the heavy stream of traffic, the driver asking their destination.

“What am I going to do if I'm not part of the RCMP?” Meg asked, more to herself.

“You will find out during retirement, many years from now.” Fraser said confidently, pulling her hand into his lap, snugly between both of his.

“Optimist.” Meg turned to him, squeezing his hand and giving him a half smile. He'd made her feel better, just by being there.

“Some would say optimist, I would say I'm a realist.” Ben's voice had a reassuring smile that Meg could hear. She chuckled.

“I love you, Ben.” The words popped out, surprising even Meg.

“Viviana Larsen wasn't as wrong as you thought.” The Mountie leaned over and ran his thumb over her cheek.

“No, she wasn't wrong.” Meg agreed, a rose blush creeping up her cheeks. Next came the kiss she had been hoping for since their first kiss on the roof of the train. It almost made her dizzy, to be that close to Ben, and to know that he had initiated the kiss because he wanted it. The sound of traffic around them, the cab driver talking to his dispatcher, the smell of Fraser; his leather polish, the scent of his aftershave, the taste of his kiss, all of it was intoxicating. Meg didn't have to see, she felt everything and it felt good, it felt alive. Without saying it, Meg knew that he loved her too. Nothing needs to be spoken when two hearts find one, common beat.

_**TYKTYK** _


	13. 13

_**The Princess Margaret Suite …** _

_**Midnight …** _

Meg lay on her side, sound asleep, her body in a fetal position beneath the thick comforter. She'd been exhausted and fallen asleep soon after Ben left at ten o'clock. She'd worn Ben's sweatpants and t-shirt again, like a security blanket. They still smelled faintly of his detergent and his footlocker.

Silently, Ben opened the door and stepped inside. A sliver of light cut across Meg's face.

“Hello, is someone there?” Meg asked, raising up and flipping on the bedside lamp.

“I was just checking on you, I couldn't sleep.” Ben stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, what's the matter?” Meg yawned, stretching her arms over her head. Ben watched her long, lithe figure for a moment.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.” He answered noncommittally. Ben smiled when he realized she was wearing his clothes again.

“When should I expect my shirt and sweatpants back?” The Mountie asked, crossing the room.

“I don't know, they're the next best thing to sleeping with … “ Meg paused mid-sentence, leaving the rest left unsaid. _“your arms around me.”_ Meg answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What are you doing?” She asked, listening to the sound of his boots hit the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed. He had set down in the desk chair to untie and unlace his high browns. He also unhooked his suspenders and laid them on the desk.

“Earlier this evening I was wondering what it would feel like to do this.” Ben sat down beside Meg on the bed and pulled the covers back enough to get in beside her. A sliver of light from the security light outside glowed weakly, just enough to illuminate the foot of the bed. Meg shook her head, giggling as she laid back down, this time her back to Ben's chest.

“I wouldn't have thought in a million years you'd do this.” His arms circled her comfortably, securely. Meg laced her fingers with his on her stomach.

“Your revelation in the taxi earlier was surprising as well.” Ben kissed the back of her neck lightly, making the lady Mountie shiver in pleasure.

“I meant it.” Meg turned toward him, her voice serious.

“I know.” He answered.

“You haven't said it, but my woman's intuition tells me you feel the same.” Even Meg didn't know if her words were a statement or a question.

“I do.” He tightened his embrace for a moment.

“What if we aren't successful, Ben, or what if our superiors separate us?” She sounded worried.

“I care too much for you to let our differences tear us apart.” Fraser answered. He'd spent a great deal of time thinking about the repercussions of his decision to pursue Meg.

“What about the RCMP?” Meg asked.

“I'm willing to see this through if you are, the RCMP will simply have to understand, I'm not leaving you.” He squeezed her tightly for a moment, kissing her neck lightly again.

“I don't know if I can take this chance, I've never took a leap of faith before.” Meg said quietly, admitting something she tried not to think about.

“I considered that and found that I would regret never having tried worse than I would hurt if I took a chance loving you.” Ben leaned up on his elbow to see Meg's face.

“That's how I feel too. I'm tired of being alone, Ben. I would hate leaving the Force, but I couldn't bear to lose you.” She brought his hand to her lips.

“I want to face challenges together, you and I.”

“I'm not easy to live with you know.” Meg said, her tone teasing.

“Ray has stated the same sentiment about me before.” Ben teased back.

“ _I've_ said the same thing about you before.” Meg laughed. There was no one either of them had rather try living with though.

“I may be forced to leave the RCMP, depending on this fitness assessment. I'll have to leave Chicago.” Meg reminded him, more solemnly.

“I can transfer.” Ben answered, his voice beginning to sound drowsy. Meg was wide awake.

“You've found your niche here in Chicago.” She sounded surprised.

“I remain the same, regardless of my physical location.” He answered, yawning.

“It really must be love.” Meg sighed dreamily and settled back down into Ben's embrace. A few minutes later she heard his breathing change and knew that Ben was fast asleep.

_**Five Weeks After Surgery …..** _

Meg had been manning the phone, getting up each day and reporting promptly after breakfast. She smiled a lot more Turnbull noticed. He was glad that his superior officer was feeling better and attributed it to getting back to work. What he didn't know about was the early mornings when Fraser slipped out of the Princess Margaret Suite and back to his own home/office.

“Good morning, Canadian Consulate, Inspector Thatcher speaking.” Meg answered at nine o'clock in the morning. Fraser tapped at the door.

“Come in, Constable Fraser.” Meg put her hand over the receiver. He walked in, weekly report in hand. Meg put up a single index finger to tell him to wait.

“Yes, Sir, I understand, I'll send the release form as soon as Dr. Brown signs it.” Meg smiled, turning to where Fraser usually stood when he was in her office.

“Thank you, Sir, have a good day as well.” Meg hung the phone up.

“Constable Fraser, they reviewed my medical files, I won't have to leave Chicago.” She stood up and felt her way around the desk.

“That's wonderful news.” He took her hand as she approached.

“Shall we have a celebratory dinner later?” Ben asked quietly, so as not to be overheard.

“That sounds nice, but I don't think I want a repeat of the Larsen brunch.” Meg frowned.

“How about an intimate dinner for two in a genuine, Canadian bistro, only steps away from your suite?” Ben offered, thinking of the necessary preparations for cooking dinner at the consulate.

“With a perfectly cooked gourmet dish and an extravagant dessert?” Meg played along. They both took a step backward when they heard Turnbull tap at the door before popping his head into the office.

“Inspector, I have a package for you.” He stepped in, feeling like he'd missed something by the way Inspector Thatcher and Constable Fraser were suddenly so uncomfortable.

“Bring it in, Constable Turnbull.” Meg prompted him after a long silence.

“Very well, Sir.” Turnbull darted out again and brought in a large Quill brand box labeled 10598B forms.

“Ah, the forms you ordered, Sir.” Fraser said, a brow lifted. If he saw another one of those forms it would be too soon. He'd rather hunt walrus poachers in his long johns that fill out reports, but they were part of the job.

“Thank you, Constable Turnbull, put them in Constable Fraser's office won't you.” Meg directed him. She heard him heft the sixty pound box up and proceed out the office door.

“We'll have enough forms for the next four years.” Meg shrugged.

“What time shall I be ready for this romantic interlude?” The lady Mountie switched gears quickly.

“Seven o'clock.” Ben answered.

“I'll be there.” Meg affirmed with a satisfied smile. “I'll see you then.”

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

 


	14. 14

_**Dinner ….** _

A light, violin led piece played on the radio in the corner of the dining room. Two candles sat lit in the center, a single rose in a vase. The small, round table was laid with the consulate's lesser dishes on a wine colored table cloth. Meg walked into the dining room on Ben's arm, because she wanted to, not because it was necessary.

“Here we are, Madame.” Ben pulled out Meg's seat for her before taking his own seat.

“I've had dreams like this, are you certain this isn't one of them?” Meg smiled, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear to reveal a diamond stud. Ben squinted, looking at the other side, sure enough, there was a sapphire stud in her other ear. He figured she's put her earrings on looking down so she would have more time looking up. Dr. Brown had given her half an hour up and half an hour down instructions since she was doing so much better. He'd even said she could go without her eye patches indoors. The doctor said that Meg would probably have some sensitivity to sunlight for a while to come.

“No, this is quite real.” He poured her iced tea.

“What do I smell, steak?” Meg lifted her nose to the steaming meal waiting for her to dig in.

“Ah, we have rouladen, new potatoes au gratin, green beans, and yeast rolls.” Ben answered proudly.

“You cooked all that? For me?” Meg found her fork and found the chipped steak rolled with onion and bacon first.

“It was no trouble.” Ben watched her savor the first bite. Nothing he cooked could taste as good as watching her enjoy the meal. Seeing Meg happy was enough.

“You do realize you're spoiling me, don't you Ben?” Meg teased, spearing a fork full of green beans.

“Yes, that was the general plan.” He agreed, hiding a smile behind his glass of iced tea. Meg laughed, a genuine, rolling laugh. She went suddenly silent when she heard heavy footsteps on the floor in the hallway. Ben was on his feet in a split second.

“Hello, Benny, you here?” Ray called out, expecting the Mountie to be in his home/office. “Hey, Fraser, I came to check on you.” The detective ventured farther into the consulate.

Ben waited for Meg's response, curious to see if she'd try to hide the fact that they were having a candlelit dinner.

“Tell him to come on in.” Meg said in a low voice, nervous. She expected the Italian detective to have something smartalec to say to her.

“Ray, in the dining room.” Ben still wondered what the final results would be. The detective stepped into the dining room. The first thing he saw was the candles burning on the table and the dishes set up on the sideboard.

“Okay, I see I should have called first, good thing I decided to come early tonight.” Ray raised a surprised brow, taking in the scene. Ben appeared calm and the Inspector seemed nervous but hiding it.

“Inspector Thatcher and I were just ….”

“Having a celebratory dinner.” Meg finished, smiling briefly.

“Oh, what is it, Canadian bacon day or somethin'?” Ray snickered.

“No, this is our first,” Meg paused, a blush beginning to creep up her neck. “our first evening.” She shot Ben a pleading expression, praying he would finish the sentence for her.

“First date?” Ben finished, hoping he hadn't said something Meg would make him regret later.

“Well, I'll be. I thought she hated you, Fraser.” Ray laughed, laying a hand on his stomach as he nearly doubled over. Meg stiffened in her seat, her lips pursed.

“Now, Ray,” Ben began, straightening up.

“Fraser, I'm happy for you, really, I thought you'd never get together.” Vecchio grabbed his friend's hand and shook it vigorously.

“Thank you kindly, Ray.” Fraser said, though he wasn't certain, his brow knit.

“It's about time you two figured it out.” Ray slapped Ben on the back. “Frannie's going to have a hissy fit, but she'll get over it.” A hissy fit wasn't nearly what Frannie was going to have and the Mountie knew it. The passionate Italian was going to go up like a Roman candle when she found out Fraser and Thatcher were a couple. Ben wanted to go back to the Yukon, and the sooner the better.

“Is there a reason for your visit this evening, Detective Vecchio?” Meg said pointedly, her 'Inspector' tone in full force.

“I came to see Fraser but I see he's doing alright. Congrats, Benny, I'll see you tomorrow, okay.” Ray turned to leave.

“Have a good evening, Ray.” Fraser walked as far as the dining room door with him.

“I'll see myself out, enjoy your meal.” Ray waved back at Meg then disappeared into the hallway.

“Pardon the interruption, I wasn't expecting Ray to drop in this evening.” Ben sat down and put a linen napkin over one knee.

“Ben, I saw you watching my reaction.” Meg said seriously. He looked at her, his features neutral.

“I learned from my mistake on the train, I hope you know that.” She reached her hand out to take his across the table. His rough fingers gently slipped into her hand.

“I believe we both learned something.” Ben agreed, a load taken off his mind he didn't even know had been burdening him. It was important to him that she acknowledge they were a couple.

“Let's get back to dinner before it gets cold, shall we?” Meg squeezed his hand before turning loose.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

_“Where's the steak you promised, I can smell it on you.”_ Dief wagged his tail and licked his chops when Fraser finally made it in for the night.

“Dinner went well, thank you for asking.” Ben chided him for his lack of manners.

 _“I know dinner went well, what I don't know is where you're keeping the steak you promised me.”_ Dief began to sniff around impatiently, sitting on his haunches when Ben sat down at his desk.

“Very well, I'll get the steak I promised.” Ben got back up to go into the kitchen.

“Is this what you're looking for?” Meg stood beyond Ben's office door, holding a paper plate of the chopped steak.

“Ah, yes it is.” Ben froze with that deer in the headlights expression he always got when Meg caught him doing something bizarre. “How much of that, of the conversation did you hear, exactly?” He smoothed his brow with his left thumb nail.

“Most of it.” She answered, sitting the plate on the floor in front of Dief.

“Oh, so you ...” He trailed off, glad that he'd been talking to Diefenbaker and not his father's ghost. At least Dief was visible.

“It's fine, Ben, I understand; love you, love your wolf.” Meg leaned against the door frame, watching Dief enjoy his steak. Ben relaxed, leaning against the wall near the door frame. They looked at each other, the silence between them comfortable. Slowly, Ben leaned in and gave Meg a playful peck on the lips. She laughed, moving closer, putting her arms around his waist and giving him a real kiss.

“I should get going, it's bed time.” Meg finally pulled back, checking her watch.

“So it is.” Ben read her watch up side down.

“Sweet dreams, Ben.” Meg laced her fingers together as she stared up at him, smiling. She hated leaving but knew that he would still be there in the morning.

“Sleep well, Meg.” Ben cupped her face in his hands, running his thumb along her cheek as he stared into the deepest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Diefenbaker barked loudly when he'd seen and heard enough lovey dovey stuff out of the two humans.

“I guess that's my cue to go.” Meg pulled free first. Ben watched her walk down the hall, glad to be able to finally love her openly. The night had been a success.

_**TYKTYK** _


	15. 15

_**Back at Work ….** _

Meg sat at her desk, wishing she had something to do instead of paperwork. It was her first Monday morning back at the consulate. Dr. Brown had released her to work, only prescribing a new strength of her usual reading glasses. The lady Mountie was still getting used to the light so she kept her office's drapes closed for the most part. By two o'clock she had a headache from eye strain and frustration. Ben had definitely been in her files and she couldn't find anything, they were all in regulation order.

“Constable Fraser, may I speak to you in my office?” Meg said when he answered on the second ring. A moment later she heard his tap on the door.

“Come in, Fraser.” The lady Mountie stood up, gathering her coat, purse and briefcase.

“You wanted to speak to me, Inspector Thatcher?” He closed the door behind him and crossed the room.

“I'm leaving early, I have a headache.” Meg pulled her sunglasses out of her briefcase and slipped into her coat.

“Are there any instructions?” Ben watched her carefully, wondering if she were well enough to take herself home.

“No, just wanted to say good-bye before I left the office. I'll probably take a nap and find something to eat for supper later.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her eyes felt like they were trying to cross and turn backwards into her head at the same time.

“Call if you need anything.” Ben said softly, buttoning her navy pea coat. Meg smiled up at him. She seemed tired.

“I have everything I need.” She took his hand and squeezed it gently. The lady Mountie tapped on the back of his hand; I-L-Y, in Morse code.

“I'll see you in the morning, Inspector Thatcher.” Ben said loudly, tapping his response against Meg's hand.

“Inform me if you have any questions.” Meg pulled away reluctantly.

“Understood.” Ben nodded as he watched her leave the office. He'd grown accustomed to Meg's presence upstairs. The Mountie had checked on her several times through out the day and evening while she was recovering. They'd taken meals together and shared conversations. It was going to be a long afternoon without her.

 _“Yep, definitely pinky wrapped.”_ Dief settled himself at Fraser's feet, looking up at his human friend.

“Oh nonsense, Diefenbaker.” Ben chided the fur ball.

 _“If she said jump you say, 'Yes, Sir, where do I land?' admit it.”_ Dief cocked one eye brow, thumping Ben's foot with his bushy tail.

“Now do I comment on your dating habits?” The old wolf looked thoroughly put out and got up to leave.

_**After Supper …..** _

Meg sat on the sofa flipping through the television channels. She'd taken a long nap, gotten up and fixed herself a pot of homemade vegetable soup for supper. Now she sat curled up on the sofa flipping channels like a couch potato. A tap on the door nearly startled the lady Mountie. She got up and peered through the peep hole.

“Ben!” She had to stop herself from dragging him inside.

“I came by to see if you were alright.” He stepped in the front door and took Meg in from her dark, loose hair, her baggy sweat shirt and Maple Leaf's pajama bottoms and her bare feet. She looked down at her clothes and looked embarrassed.

“I'm fine, it was just eye strain.” She closed the door and took Ben's coat and Stetson. He seemed to fill the room.

“I've brought something.” Ben fiddled in his coat pocket and pulled out _Black Beauty_. “We didn't finish the last two chapters. Meg laughed, lighting up her whole face. The only thing Ben had seen that came anywhere near to her beauty was the Northern Lights of home.

“Have a seat on the sofa and I'll make us some hot cocoa.” Meg shook her head as she walked into the kitchen and put on the tea kettle. A few minutes later she returned with two steaming mugs of cocoa with miniature marshmallows bobbing in them. She handed one to Ben and took her usual seat on the short couch.

“Let me get my lap throw and I'll be ready.” Meg set her mug down and dug a cherry red, fleece throw out of the bottom storage area of her end table and curled up on the couch beside Ben. The Mountie watched her settle down, her legs tucked beneath her like.

“What?” She said when she caught him watching.

“Just enjoying watching you.” He responded, his green eyes warm with affection and satisfaction.

“Come on, let's finish the book.” Meg waved her left hand at him, smiling. Ben stretched his long legs out toward the coffee table and opened the book. He started on the next to last chapter of the book, his voice taking on that melodious, measured tone that hypnotized Meg.

By the end of the final chapter, Meg had stretched out on the couch, her feet on Ben's knee. Gently, he rubbed her feet, noting that she was ticklish on the bottoms of her feet. The mischievous part of him wanted to run his finger between her toes to watch her squirm. He decided not to, knowing she'd retaliate and try to find his ticklish spots. He filed that experiment away for a later trial.

"My troubles are all over, and I am at home; and often before I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick, standing with my old friends under the apple-trees." Ben closed the book slowly. 

“That was a beautiful story, thank you for coming over to finish it.” Meg yawned, despite her long nap earlier in the afternoon. Between Ben's voice, hot cocoa and being warm and cozy on the couch, she was sleepy again.

“You're welcome.” Ben set her feet aside to get up from the couch.

“I couldn't have made it through this without you, Ben.” Meg curled her feet up in the fleece throw.

“Sleep well, Meg.” Ben wished her as he perched on the edge of the couch beside her.

“You too, Ben.” Meg caressed his cheek, feeling the bit of stubble on his chin. It may have been the last chapter of _Black Beauty_ , but it wasn't the last chapter of Ben and Meg's story.

_**The End.** _


End file.
